Constancy
by Portia Marlowe
Summary: This cannot be explained, only experienced. Seriously. I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this. Crossdressing, innuendo, yokels, and sweet, sweet Will.
1. Joseph Carleton

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Constancy 

By Portia Marlowe

(The infamous) A/N: I present to you my second fanfic ever, and first chaptered one! They're short though. I am a little afraid for this one because there is a fic up already of a similar nature. I'm only putting it up because I've worked so long on it. I swear I was working on this LONG before the other author ever posted hers. (Yeah, I've got nothing better to do than plagiarize…) Any similarities are terrible nasty horrible random coincidences. Besides, our created characters and story line are pretty different (except two things), from what I've read so far. And there is hardly anything as serious as my last fic in here—actually, this is more or less a parody of that gravity. Wilkins lovers be forewarned: I hate him with a burning passion. He IS the evilest character if you think about it more in depth. He's adorable, but oh, I hate him! Um, go ahead and flame/yell at me at your discretion, CLARIFY THE PROGRESSION OF TIME IN THIS FILM, tell me what parts of the movie I screwed up (haven't watched it in forever), etc. If Bordon actually HAS a first name, please tell me. I don't recall one being mentioned, so I made a pretty typical one up. I'm refraining from commenting within my story—Izzy's got me inserting commentary in EVERYTHING ever since her audience participation lines, an idea from _Rocky Horror Picture Show_, for LOTR. Well, I'm going to shut up now. Love, Portia

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South Carolina

1777(ish)

There was something strange about Joseph Carleton, the "new boy," as the other dragoons called him. Upon meeting the stern and impressive Colonel Tavington, the young horseman had been reserved, almost coy, in his responses to any question or statement. However, his eyes were unafraid, something that unsettle the colonel. The new lad stood a good head below Tavington and spoke with a meekness that rendered him wholly unintimidating. No, only the eyes and the taught ferocity caged within them had an unnerving effect on even the most battle hardened. 

This recruit was jostled childishly by his fellow members of horse. The small stature of the man and his aura of frailty made him susceptible to any host of tauntings and beatings. Even Wilkins, who was generally sneered at, set upon the young man to make life miserable in exchange for his own insecurities. No reason for the cruelty could be decided; save for his youthful appearance and the fact he rarely spoke. And when he did, his words were as soft and sweet as his face. Only Major Bordon treated him cordially, even spending evenings discussing books with the young man.

Wilkins sauntered into the mess tent one evening after a particularly bad meeting with the colonel. As all bullies do when they are bullied, he swooped upon the easiest target. 

"Hey, mute," Wilkins bellowed, demonstrating the extent of his wit. "Why do you get such preferential treatment? We've ne'er seen _you_ cursed and yelled at by the colonel."

Joseph shrugged and quietly continued to take in his supper. 

Wilkins glowered at the "new boy." The captain joined a group of dragoons who had actually accepted him and stewed as he waited for a reply. When none was given, he flung a small pebble at Joseph. The young horseman did not flinch.

"Answer me, boy!" the captain bawled, his precious little authority being subverted against. "I asked you somethin' and I want an answer!"

No response. Wilkins began to catcall the recruit, and a few others snickered. Most ignored the boorish captain and went about their business. It was no small wonder that Tavington hated the man—he was an embarrassment to the legion_._ He bungled his duties and constantly questioned authority. Even the generally mild tempered Major Bordon had muttered: "Our integrity diminishes every time that turn-coat bastard breathes."

"You've got such a priddy face, boy," Wilkins snickered. "Have you been appeasin' the colonel with that girly face?"

The dragoon turned on his assailant furiously. There was little Carleton could do, as the buffoon, sadly, was his superior. He drew his graceful form up to his full height besides Wilkins. They stared into each other's eyes. The captain sneered and slapped Joseph across the rump. 

"Does the colonel's trollop work for other clients?"

Joseph blinked, then dealt Wilkins a fierce blow to the jaw with his fist. The captain swayed, cracked his head on a table, and toppled from his seat. Wilkins was unconscious with line of blood trickling from his mouth.

"Funny—I had always thought hot air kept things aloft." The young man shrugged and stepped over his dazed tormenter. Gawking dragoons allowed him a wide berth as he made his way toward the entrance. Bordon blocked his way out, unamused.

"Joseph," sighed Bordon, guiding the horseman out. "You just pulled a prank that will get you into some serious trouble with Colonel Tavington. I must turn you in for assaulting an officer. The colonel may lessen your punishment as you were defending yourself, but—"

"John, I understand," Carleton said softly. "But that captain is such a fool—"

"I know, I know. Come with me." The major started for the colonel's tent. Joseph followed willingly, heart pounding in his throat. He showed no signs on his exterior of being frightened, but he was terrified. Though the word of Captain Wilkins was generally untrustworthy, surely the colonel was some sort of sadist baby-eater….

They made their way to the colonel's tent in the increasing darkness. Both were silent. Bordon's hawkish face was worried and rueful in the glow of various campfires. The major spotted Tavington's tent easily, as it was the only canvas structure illuminated from within by various lamps and candles.

Colonel Tavington was hunkered over his desk, furiously scratching out reports. He squinted in the candle light at the papers, muttering about a variety of peeves. Tavington looked sleep deprived and haunted with his hair coming loose from his scalp-wrenching braid and the soft candle glow illuminating every worn hollow of his face. He peered up irately over his quill and surveyed his two visitors.

"What's this?" he demanded.

"Sir," Bordon said, bowing, "there has been a bit of an incident that requires your judgement."

Tavington sat up in his chair with a sharp intake of breath. He looked coldly at Joseph. "Oh? Proceed with your complaint, Major."

"Well, it's not _my_ complaint, sir—Mr. Carleton here has just assaulted Captain Wilkins. It had to be reported by me, as the captain is unconscious."

"Is that all?" Tavington smirked. "What for, if I may be so bold, Mr. Carleton?"

Joseph gathered himself superbly and faced the colonel levelly. "Sir, I was merely defending myself. I should not have been so rash as to strike the captain, but at the moment, and in my temper, I thought it was a sound reason—"

"From what were you defending yourself?" the colonel smiled slightly. He appeared highly interested in Carleton's story.

"Sir, there are several who seem to take pleasure in taunting me," he replied with a slight smile, and added, "because I appear somewhat effeminate. Captain Wilkins began to bully me in front of everyone and threw rocks at me. He continued to tease me and even began to slander you somewhat."

"In what manner?"

"He said I was your whore, sir." Bordon stifled a giggle into his palm. The colonel shot him a glance, completely displeased. Bordon nodded gravely in concession and straightened with a snort. His eyes returned their focus on the narrator.

Tavington colored a moment in ire then recomposed himself. "Continue, Mr. Carleton."

"Well, sir, he then slapped me across the buttocks and propositioned me. It was then I punched him. So, sir, there is my story, perfectly related. Entirely true." Joseph studied his commander's rigid face in earnest. Their unrelenting eyes met and for a moment, Tavington cringed.

"Everything I saw was exactly as he described," Bordon contributed.

The colonel paused a moment to think. He closed his eyes and hummed a little as he imbibed and considered what the recruit had said. It did not appear as if the young man was lying, and after all, it was only Wilkins. If anything, Tavington ought to congratulate the whippy little dragoon shifting nervously before him. It was now a question of who bothered him more. The colonel's eyes snapped open, having arrived at his decision.

"Mr. Carleton, as you have an officer, I must pass punishment on you. Be thankful—had you launched yourself at Major Bordon," he nodded in the direction of the officer, "I would likely have you flogged. But, having my reasons, I will only assign you to emptying chamber pots in the hospital for a week."

Joseph bowed low in great courtesy. "Thank you, sir."

"You may leave now." Tavington waved them away, returning to his reports. Bordon retreated from the tent. 

However, Joseph remained, frowning. "You never write me anymore."

Tavington snapped to attention. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Carleton?" His eyes narrowed quizzically at the young man pouting at him. Carleton leaned against the desk and pulled a letter written in an eccentric looking hand that was barely discernible as feminine from under a candle. He flicked a few wax drippings from the paper and sighed.

"You know it is dangerous to keep paper under fire like that." He replaced the candle. "Have you become so asocial as to forget family, William?"

"Your face is familiar, but I do not recall us—"

"William, are you _that_ thickheaded?" the young man said in disbelief.

Tavington's face paled as he scrutinized the soft visage of Joseph Carleton. "Edward? Brother, you've certainly changed—and the false name?"

"Lummox! It's _me_!" Joseph cried, shaking loose his hair. The colonel nearly fainted as he got to his feet. Standing before him with a subversive smile was a handsome young woman of twenty-six. Her auburn hair framed her face, adding an even more wild light to her green and ash-grey eyes. The high, delicate cheekbones inherited from her mother were illuminated with a laughing blush.

"Constance Tavington!" Her brother beheld his baby sister, pleased to see her. No questions were asked as he threw his arms about her waist and kissed her. "Oh, little sister! How good it is to see you!"

She was not so enthused. "You have not written me in years! I will not take excuses, William."

"I've been busy," he replied, still smiling.

"The exciting events of the past few days have proved it," Constance said dryly.

"Well, I, ah—what in hell are you doing here?" he was suddenly serious, remembering his duties as an older brother. "You should be swamped with children and _certainly not here_!"

"That's what you think." Constance rebound her hair with the pursed lipped expression characteristic of their family. "Had I a husband."

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Next chapter: The misadventures that befell Constance in her quest to

perform her feminine duties (i.e., marrying and having children), and the 

shaming of the family.


	2. Constance

A **_REAL_** A/N WHERE I APOLOGIZE FOR A MINOR MISTAKE: It has come to my attention as my brothers are watching _The Patriot_ this VERY moment (oh, the irony!), that Bordon is NOT a major, but a captain. Forgive me please *grovels*, but I had not seen the movie in a very long time! Ok, onward.

William stared at his sister with a baffled look. "What do you mean by 'Had I a husband?'"

"Exactly what I said," she snorted with a half laugh.

"But, I thought you married, ah, whatsisname, Mr—" Tavington scratched his head, trying to remember. His sister sighed and shook her head.

"Do you remember crazy Mr. Fitzwilliam—the one who was madly in love with me and wrote me love letters every day for two years?"

"Yes…I do recall him."

"See, father was foolish enough to invite him to my wedding—"

"He _is_ a family friend, Constance."

Her eyes widened dramatically. "Not any more. Anyhow, in a twist that no one could have ever conceived, Mr. Fitzwilliam charged into my room on the wedding night. My husband was there, ah, of course," she blushed a bit. 

"So, Mr. Fitzwilliam drew his sword and ran my husband through. He then proceeded to proclaim his undying love, no matter whether I had yet been 'tainted' by my husband, and he begged me to run away with him to Austria.

"I say no and start to scream, sob, &c., as loud as you please over my poor murdered husband. Every servant in the house ran in and saw crazy Mr. Fitzwilliam spouting epic poetry and me in my bloody underwear, in tears, clutching my husband. They pounced on him and dragged him off and I have been a widow ever since with 'spinster' stamped upon my brow…." Her eyes grew misty and far away. She brought a handkerchief to her eyes.

"Oh, Constance…you cannot be serious!" William opened his arms to her again. His face was pale and shocked.

"No, I'm not," Constance snapped, whacking her brother. Her face was now mocking. "It just proves how insensitive of a big brother you are as to not write me and find out!"

"Fine, Constance; you've proved your point. Enough dramatics from you. What _really_ happened?"

She took in a breath and folded her hands above her belly. "Well, I _was_ going to marry a very handsome young man of considerable wealth from a very respected family. We grew to be very much in love before our impending marriage in the summer. Oh, how we doted on each other! He was my little lamb. I would read to him in the garden, play music for him, he would take me hunting, and everyone said I was very handsome on his arm. 

"But, as we know, father lusted for Dame Fortune, and blew his entire estate away at her desire. With the sweep of an ill-played hand, it was gone. He continued to lose and lose and died a penniless, alcohol sodden death at our winter lodge. Suddenly with no money, our family's reputation and honor mangled, I was not very pretty to my betrothed.

"Once the toast of our circle, I was then cast aside and forgotten by our former 'friends.' I struggled to make ends meet and had to sell almost everything just to stay alive. Nevermind all my clothes were out of fashion—which did not matter to me as long as I was alive. Only dear, dear Alexander Swift, your oldest and dearest friend, who was also like a third brother to me, took pity on me and supported me with anonymous 'donations.' However, your best friend decided that I was obligated to repay him, somehow—" she paused, lip trembling as she fought to restrain the tears. Constance punched into her thigh, averting her gaze. "And since I was just 'that Tavington girl' to everyone else, no one cared what he did to me. Not so much as a care when he dragged me out of the ----'s ball to the stables and forced me there." Her face was stony now, and she had reined in the threatening tears. "At least you and Edward have some semblance of _honor_ left."

William took his sister in his arms and held her close to him. "I am sorry I was not there for you, darling. I am so sorry." He stroked her hair as she began to weep.

"There's nothing that can be done now," the sister mumbled into his shoulder. She dried her eyes on her sleeve, finding it far more functional than the little handkerchief.

"So, destitute, ravaged, and ill, I came to the colonies with only my horse Roxelana, thinking I could at least sell her once I arrived her if I must. I came to the colonies to find you. That was perhaps two years ago, when all this trouble with the peasants began to brew dangerously. I saw you but once, up north in New York before you were a colonel. At least you were alive, and that pleased me. So I wrote you. When that method failed, I tracked you down and joined your dragoons."

"But why not find Edward?"

"Last anyone knew, Edward was destined to the same fate as Father. Someone told me Edward decided to go to either Russia or Egypt. Where, God knows. Why, be damned if anyone, even God, knows."

Tavington sighed. So this was his little sister now. He remembered when she was about a year old and their mother admitted the girl was her favorite, even over the charming little William. His middle brother, Edward, was generally misliked, for he was dull-witted, boorish, and treated everyone like his inferior. William had found his baby sister when she wandered off just after she learned to walk. He was ten then, and little Constance had adored him from that moment on. He called her 'Kitty' for her fixation with the tabby cat that belonged to a servant. As she learned to talk, she had a difficult time attempting to say 'brother'. Somehow it had come out sounding like 'Bunny.' Much to his dismay, that had been his loving sobriquet for his entire life, and most especially when she pleaded for something.

Constance had always been the oddity to the typically sullen males of the family. They were not entirely devoid of humor, but they had the tendency to grow too focused in their pursuits. No, the girl had been like her poor mother, who died on Constance's fourth birthday. Elizabeth Tavington had been a jovial spirit, very inclined to music, pranks, and art. She had written a series of comic sketches for her family's entertainment. Had she lived longer, she would have been much pleased with her daughter's quick jokes, quirky laugh, and ability bordering on virtuosity on the strings. And Constance was just as lovely as Mrs. Tavington was with a delicate round face of intricate features. Both possessed a magnificent pair of large eyes and vibrant auburn hair. Brother and sister had inherited her green eyes—the son's more of a translucent jade. 

Tavington could not peel his eyes from her. He felt great sorrow for her and for failing in his role as big brother. He forced himself to say: "You should not be here, Constance. A melancholy thing this war is to a man, but it would entirely destroy a woman. I am forced to discharge you. I cannot, in good conscience, allow my sister to offer her life in the service of the very people who shamed her." There was finality to his tone as he searched through papers on his desk. "You must."

"No, I must not, William Tavington!" Raging eyes transfixed him and brought him back down into his chair. Constance had always been temperamental when her motives were threatened.

"William, you and I are the only _true_ Tavingtons left! Edward be damned; he's a fool and a drunkard just like our father! We are noble despite having our dignity and esteem ripped coldly from us as if it were no more than a dingy dishclout! You are all I have left of that former life. You are proud and strong and noble and my beloved Bunny. I cannot allow you to die for the same reasons you have named for me. I am not going to permit myself to allow you to slip away without going mad. Please, William, I can protect you better than you believe. Remember how we used to go hunting? You taught me to shoot, ride, and Bordon has been teaching me to fence properly. I make good progress, he says."

"These bumpkins don't fence with etiquette, Constance. It's not as simple as you think."

"How so? Surely bagging red-necked yahoo is no more difficult than shooting a partridge." She shifted on her hips with a wry grin. He allowed himself a chuckle as she continued: "Surely we can spit roast a few for supper. Methinks rice would be a lovely side-dish."

"Constance, you are vile. You have not changed one little bit."

"Oh? You think?" she mused aloud. "I think I'm worse than I was when you last saw me."

He buried his head in his hands. "Very well then. I will allow you to stay. I will watch out for you, and you will watch out for me. I assume that's agreed. Now, I would like you to grant me one favor."

She prepared to leave, figuring on visiting Bordon. "What is that, dear brother?"

"I would like it very much if my _sister_ would ride into camp tomorrow and visit. No façade for a few days. Is that acceptable?" He was stern, gazing fixedly at her. "Is that a feasible request?"

"How long do I have to be female?" The oddity of the question caused both of them to blink in puzzlement. Constance began to laugh uproariously. "A few days. Agreed." She crossed to his spot behind the desk and kissed his forehead. "I'll leave now and stay the night at an inn. I still have a few dresses in my trunk. Miss Tavington will ride in tomorrow, handsome and polished as ever. Now, goodnight, brother. I will see you in the morn." She kissed his forehead again and disappeared into the dark.

The colonel collapsed onto the desk, unsure of what was to come of his sister's appearance in camp. He wanted to hide from it all—this was not a responsibility he wanted now. He loved his sister, but she was too much of a handful to tolerate on top of the enigmatic wraith massacring officers at every skirmish and the Lord General's wrath.

William Tavington began to pray.

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Next chapter: The re-arrival of Miss Constance Tavington and the sensation

she creates in camp.


	3. Constance, Again

A/N: Just to let you know, I do intend on writing a retractions chapter at the very end of this fic, including explanations to this (if I can even make any up…) Nods to Ban early on in this chapter (Constance's riding ensemble). Figure I gotta throw him in here *somehow*. So, be on the look out. Love, Portia

A lone figure clad in green came galloping at top speed on a handsome chestnut jennet over the ridge toward camp. A long floating sheet of white followed the rider, and those who watched their approaching could only wonder how their hat managed to stay on at such a breakneck run. As the rider drew neared and was distinguishable as female, all the men began to offer little prayers in hopes that she was beautiful and unmarried.

The rider did not fail their expectations. Constance reined her mount into a brisk, high-stepping trot and surveyed her surroundings as if discovering new territory. It was only necessary for her to pretend she had never been in the camp before.

A collective sigh rose from the soldiery as Constance rode in. She rode perfectly erect and graceful. Never had a woman cut a more dashing figure than in a green military style coat with black facings and gold trim. A simple fall and cravat adorned her neck while a tall-crowned black hat with a green cockade titled rakishly over a loose bun. It all ended in a plain whitish colored skirt, rumpled at the hems with dirt. From under her skirt peeked the toes of her uniform black boots. She beamed at her new legions of admirers and trotted onward.

There was a great racket now spreading throughout the masses that forced Constance to wonder what her brother had done to these poor men. Officers bowed and lifted their hats while the baser soldiers hooted and whistled. A tall curly-haired fellow blocked her way. He sauntered suavely up to her side and bowed awkwardly. Wilkins gazed up at her, trying to be sophisticated.

"Sir," Constance said loftily, "may I inquire as to where I may find Colonel William Tavington?"

He continued to goggle at her.

She shifted with a frown and waved her quirt at him. "Methinks, sirrah, you are wanting greatly in propriety. 'Tis most ungentlemanly to stare, though one may expect it from more…_mundane_ stock," she snapped, waving him away with an elegant flourish of her hand. Constance wished to erupt with laughter at her own snobbery.

"Forgive me, Miss. I-I—"

She ignored him and tapped her horse's side with her heel.

Hearing the ruckus and sound of horse's hooves outside, Colonel Tavington assumed his sister had arrived. Bordon jumped in surprise as the colonel scrambled to his feet in the middle of their conversation and bolted out of the tent in a manner most unbefitting of him. The captain remained by his superior's desk, feeling a little dejected, but nevertheless loyal enough to wait for his return.

"Ah! William! Brother!" Constance cried upon seeing her brother. Her face glowed in elation as she clapped her hands.

William Tavington's sister? Curse the powers and their capricious nature! The entourage of lusting men ambled away, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

"Oh, my dearest Kitty! How healthy and beautiful you are since I saw you last!" Tavington carefully aided her down from her horse and ordered a nearby troop to take the horse. The colonel kissed her. Many of the remaining soldiers now crowded around to see this new spectacle. To see such a beautiful woman, and a jovial pair of Tavingtons was beyond shocking. They stared adoringly at Constance Tavington as the brother exchanged greeting. The dragoons in the congregation hoped the new amiability in their leader would outlast the visit of the sister.

Brother and sister entered the tent, the latter clinging to her sibling's arm. They continued to chatter about this and that, ignoring poor Captain Bordon standing faithfully at the desk. When the quiet man shifted, only then did Tavington acknowledge his shy subaltern. 

The captain studied Constance briefly in wonder, hoping his eyes were no larger than usual. He looked to Tavington to avert the conversation back to the planning it had previously been; praying the blush he felt was not openly evident.

"Captain," William said instead, "if I may introduce? This is my sister, Constance Tavington."

Bordon stepped forward. "How do you do, Miss?" And to court favor with both, he bowed low and kissed the lady's hand.

"Kitty, this is Captain John Bordon," the colonel continued.

Constance curtsied gracefully to her unrecognizing friend. "Captain Bordon, my dear brother, though sparse in his communications, has told me of you. I pray you will prove to be more civilized company than that tall dark-haired fellow outside of the mess tent."

Bordon nodded, speaking softly and somewhat haltingly: "Yes—most definitely, Miss Tavington. That…that must have been, ah, Wilkins. We have been having, uh, problems with him. He is a belligerent sort."

"Indeed," Constance smiled. "Have you made the acquaintance of my, erm, cousin, Joseph Carleton?"

"It may please the lady to know that I am his only friend," the captain answered sheepishly, flushed to the ears.

"Oh, how awful! Surely you jest, sir."

"Your cousin is generally misliked for some unnamed flaw, but he often sets them straight."

Constance straightened proudly. "Very well then, Captain Bordon. Perhaps, in your kindness, you may number me as one of your friends."

Bordon bowed to her again, something of a smile upon his face. "It would be a great honor, Miss Tavington."

William watched with interest, smirking at the obvious discomfort of his underling in the presence of such a lovely young woman as Constance. The enamored captain fumbled to keep his eyes from lingering too long on any part of her fair form. The color in his cheeks grew more evident by the second.

"Dearest Will, I think I will venture out and orient myself. I will return later, for surely you must be busy."

"Kitty, the men may—" Tavington protested.

"Fine confidence you have in your sister, the one whose aim was always better than your own." A cocky grin lit her eyes as she studied her brother's severe face. 

"Captain Bordon, accompany my sister and entertain her." The colonel shot his underling a 'your life depends on this' glance that thinly masked his amusement at the bewildered stare he received from Bordon. The sister looked to Bordon with a cheery smile. Captain Bordon offered his arm and escorted her outside. For some time he was silent, forcing Constance to prod him for conversation.

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Next chapter: Constance and Bordon chat about music, and Constance's somewhat

caustic opinion about women's opinions.


	4. Of Mozart and Wilkins...

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HIGHLY NECESSARY A/N: This chapter deals with music. Music is my next greatest passion. I am about ready to bawl because I cannot let Constance adore Vivaldi as much as I do. Quick history lesson: In Vivaldi's later years (somewhere 'round 1737ish), the Pope was torqued at him, Vivaldi's fame declined, as did his health, he died in 1741, he was pretty much forgotten and all of his music went into private collections. His music was virtually unknown until _1926 _when they were unearthed in a music library in Italy. The general populace did not actually hear Vivaldi's music until the 1950s. E-mail me if you want the whole story. I'm not sure if Corelli (another Baroque composer—check out his Concerto Grosso in g minor, No. 8, Opus 6) was forgotten too, but oh well, he's in here any way. By the way, Constance's 'nyah' opinion of Mozart is mine own, and I know I'm about to be flamed for this chapter. Love, Portia

Constance frowned, effecting a little more effort from Bordon. After all, Colonel Tavington had given him a rather threatening glare and that was not something Bordon wished to test.

"Um, Miss Tavington, do you like…music?" he mumbled, averting shyly his eyes from her.

"Very much so!" she chirped. "I can play all the stringed instruments quite satisfactorily, though I primarily play the violin. Will does not believe it proper to have a cello or viol de gamba cradled between my knees, so should my music call for a cello, I have him play. Once or twice I've played a continuo part on the contrabass, as there was no available harpsichord. And you, Captain?"

"I enjoy listening to it when I can, but I do not play."

Constance nodded. "Will plays Bach cello suites beautifully, but I doubt he would oblige your request to hear him play. Perhaps I will play something for you on a later visit?"

"I would much like that."

"I only pray you have no preference for Mozart."

Somewhat surprised, Bordon scrutinized her. Mozart was a rather estimable young composer, though still no where near as popular as Salieri in the Viennese circles. "What do you mean?"

"Mozart's melodies, to my ear, are the same tinny tune over and over. He seems to have the tendency to "reuse" his music so that what he writes now sounds awfully similar to something he wrote two years ago."

"And what does the lady prefer?"

"Telemann, Corelli, Bach, Heinichin. Boccherini is a current favorite of mine. Haydn's music is similar to Mozart's, but I feel it has far more variety."

Bordon smiled. "In some sense, the lady is behind in fashion."

"I may assault my feet and waist with the cruel contrivance of 'fashion' if it means I do my feminine duty and land a husband," she said dryly, taking on the taut manner of her brother. "But I refuse to assault my mind, a far more permanent thing than my features, with worthless and boring music, books or other 'fashionable' things. I am accomplished, but I do not go about them mindlessly. I may only have so many opinions allotted to me as a female, and I had better be belligerent about those."

"Well said," Bordon murmured. He was getting to like this little woman. She was definitely not of the normal mold, but at least she was interesting enough.

Wilkins noticed them and hailed his fellow captain. 

"Here's one you need to be mindless to understand, Miss Tavington," Bordon whispered to her. Constance giggled and followed the approach of Wilkins with her eyes.

"Hello, Captain Bordon, sir," Wilkins said with a pompous bow. "My, my sir, what lovely lady is this you've got at your arm."

"This is Miss Constance Tavington, Captain Wilkins. She is the colonel's sister." Constance gave a reserved curtsey, fearing that if she dip her body too far forward, Wilkins would see far more than he deserved.

"Jim Wilkins, miss," the tall captain said with another bow. 

"I never knew we were at such informalities, Captain Wilkins."

"Well, miss, you may call me what you wish."

A devilish smirk settled onto her visage. "How kind of you to give me such leave, sir." She nodded to him with a most charming smile. "Now, if you will excuse Captain Bordon and me, we were on a stroll of the encampment. Good day."

Wilkins tried for elegance and made his most impressive bow. The effect was a stifled giggle from the woman at his gracelessness and awkward speech. He stared after Constance as she walked off with Captain Bordon.

Out of earshot, Constance leaned into Bordon's shoulder for confidentiality. "He's a captain too?"

Mournfully, Bordon nodded. "A real boon to our corps," he answered cynically.

"He tries too hard to impress. I think I would pity him more than I would esteem him."

"Your brother despises him. Captain Wilkins is not a fellow to be trusted. He has already betrayed his closest friends—once a turn coat, always a turn coat."

"Aye, though from looking at the fellow, you would assume he's in for his own personal gain."

"Sadly, yes, though he often doesn't seem to have to brains to come up with such a plan." Bordon sighed and gazed softly at her. "You had better watch out for him, Miss Tavington. He's a big man."

"Indeed, but a real shit-wit." Constance chuckled wryly. 

The captain, though initially taken aback by her profanity, burst into a convulsive fit of laughter. "Well said again, Miss Tavington!"

__

Next chapter: Lieutenant Tobias Fife arrives, and Constance's prompt to "leave."


	5. Will Tavington the Love Catalyst?

A/N: Uh, my brain's a bit fried right now, so if this chapter actually makes sense we're in luck. Note on Toby Fife: I made him up. If you saw the A&E version of _Pride and Prejudice_ (the one with Colin Firth as Darcy), for Toby, think along the lines of Bingley's whacked-outness (?) but Iaon Gruffudd (*slobber*) way-major-omigosh-sexy. 

Tavington seated his sister across from him. His desk had been hastily cleared to perform the offices of a dinner table. The colonel smiled at Constance before setting the places.

"I'm sorry it is nothing reminiscent of our old dinner parties, dear, but as you see, no one is rolling in the lap of luxury right now."

His sister nodded with perfect understanding. "No matter, brother. I am thankful for anything and everything."

"Then you shall get along just fine, though if I take you to the fort, that pretty face of yours may get us invitations to dine with the generals."

Constance 'hmphed' over her wine. "Thank you, Will. So good to know I am whoring myself for dinner invites now. What a _sad_ state I'm in…."

A smile quirked the right side of his face. "You _are_ worse than when I last saw you." Tavington served her a piece of some sort of foul rubbed with herbs, along with potatoes and some stringy beans that no one would have dared touch had they not been under the great privation induced by war time. He sat and stared quizzically at his sister as she stretched her hands out to him.

"Grace, brother?"

"Oh…" he said. "Yeah…."

Narrowing her eyes, she grabbed his hands. "_You_ say Grace."

William bowed his head obediently and mumbled a prayer, making doubly sure to accent the 'Amen' in hopes his sister would brush off his lack of faith. Constance shook her head at him.

"Oh, William! You have not been saying Grace…probably not even your prayers? My, my, my…." She shook her head disapprovingly.

"All right, enough, Mum."

"Bunny's going to Hell," she sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

William snorted and began to eat. Constance watched him with a frown before setting quietly in on her vegetables. They dined in silence. The brassy glow of the firelight made a cheery attempt at giving a sense of comfort, but it failed. There was just something wrong between them.

Bordon burst in and bowed to them. "Sir, we have a new member."

Constance turned and smiled at her friend. He returned her smile and a coy little wave before snapping back to attention before the colonel. 

"Bring him in," Tavington said irately, dropping his utensils to the plate. Bordon turned and ushered in a young man of no great height. The man made a ludicrously ceremonious bow, and Tavington 'hmphed' and threw his napkin into his lap.

"I am Lieutenant Tobias Fife, formerly of the Loya—"

"Damn it all, Bordon! What is your fixation with Loyalists? If this man turns out to be another Wilkins, I will have your head!" The colonel got to his feet and drew himself up to a height the seemed to soar over Fife's head. The lieutenant looked up at him with sparkling deep amber eyes and a broad grin.

"William!" Constance hissed. "Have you no manners?"

Tavington ignored her. Lieutenant Fife chuckled. "I've heard of this Wilkins fellow. And very well, you may have my head as well if I am anything like him, but please give my heart to this lady to keep if you have a tender bone in your body, sir." He bowed to Constance and tickled her fingertips. "She is your sister, sir?"

"Yes, and what of it?" Tavington grumbled.

"Well, sir, with your reputation and the illustrious appearance of your sister, you both must do an immense honor to your family."

The colonel was a little strained. "Perhaps."

"Forgive us, then, sir and miss, for intruding on your supper. The captain and I will take our leave with our most humble apologies." Fife bowed again and started backing toward the exit. He bumped into Bordon. The captain jumped and toppled into Constance's lap.

She laughed and embraced poor Captain Bordon for the horrified look burning on his face in the form of a blush. He took hold of her hand as he got up to steady himself, but quickly relinquished it in fear.

"Lieutenant Fife," Constance chirped, "I would like it very much if you, and you as well Captain Bordon, would join my brother and me for a few hands of cards." She beamed sweetly, then shot her brother a glare as malicious as the one he sent her.

"It would be a pleasure, Miss Tavington." Fife nodded with a stunning smile that brought an amiable glow to his features. Bordon bowed and exited warily, so as to avoid another fall into the arms of Constance.

"He seems to be an excellent young man," she chirred, tucking into her food.

"Good, and if he's an excellent young man, maybe I can pawn you off in marriage to him," Tavington glowered. His sister gasped.

"Am I that much of a burden to you?"

He began to back pedal. "Constance, Kitty, dearie: you are six-and-twenty, beautiful, talented, and unmarried. You, my dear, are a walking paradox! Oh, come, he's probably the best you can get around here. With the way he struts about, he was probably a lawyer or maybe even a doctor, of some well-to-do family from Charleston. Unless…unless you'd rather have Bordon. Choose which you would prefer—life of decadence or the life of a farmer. I am only trying to help you, Constance. I want the best for my _beloved _baby sister, and why can't that be through seeing her through to a fine marriage? He seemed to be quite taken with you."

"Yah, providing for the best by selling me off. Perhaps if I were bovine! William, admit it! I am a pest to you. You have got your esteem and honor going for you and to have me in the picture, socializing with the common soldiery, also known as Bordon in your eyes, I ruin it for you. Fine, I shall go change back into my cavalry clothes and do what I promised I would do—watch out for _you_!" She rose up abruptly, felling her chair. She flung her napkin at him. Constance stormed out into the night.

__

Next chapter: Constance learns the "truth" about her brother.


	6. Forgiven, but Perhaps not Forgotten...

A/N: No, I do not have an A/N. Ok, well I guess I do. Nods to Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales_, more specifically, "The Knight's Tale." No, not the silly movie starring Heath Ledger (*gags*), but the actually tale, "The Knight's Tale." Go read it if you have no idea what I'm talking about. 

Constance was gloomy riding "home." She had left all her feminine attire and Roxelana at the home of a friend she had stayed with before going through with her hair brained guardian plan. The lady of the house had playfully jibed Constance, telling her what a handsome man she was. Constance did have to admit that she cut a rather dashing figure in the uniform of the Green Dragoons….

She rode back to camp on an onyx black stallion, Hermes. The temptation to leave him with all her other things was strong, as every dragoon had whispered claims on the horse should Joseph Carleton ever be killed. The stallion was tall and well built for speed and agility. Tavington even had his eyes on the horse and had been considering passing some sort of rule that would bring Hermes into his own possession. Until he had learned that the owner was his sister. Constance knew all of this and it only caused her to seethe more.

Who in Hell did he think he was, trying to auction her off like a head of livestock? At six-and-twenty years of age, she could very well decide whom she wished to favor. Her brother need not take on the offices of her father. William's authority, in the terms of their relationship, ended at the superiority of his age. And that was all. He could not condemn her, disown her…force her to marry some fop. Except now, things were more complicated. He was her commanding officer.

But ha! She thought. I have the power of his life in my hands. If I were cruel, I would not defend him in a battle…but I'm not cruel or mean or at least I don't aim to be. Oh, spite! Hang it all.

And so, Constance rode on, stewing about the injustices of the world and stupid older brothers.

---

The dragoons rode out early the next morning. William nodded to his sister as he trotted by to the head of the group. He was glad she had returned. For a while, he had worried about where she was, as Constance was one not given to caring much about properly informing people of her leaving. 

She did not cast a glance in his direction.

"Ah, Joseph! You're back," Bordon smiled as he cantered alongside his friend.

She nodded.

"Beware Wilkins today. The colonel is a bit down after his sister left last night, so it's likely Wilkins will the get the brunt of his rage if he so much as speaks."

Constance nodded again in thanks. "His sister was here? I had no idea he had a sister. The colonel seems _much_ like an only child."

"Oh yes, he does." Whether or not he was responding to the question of there being a sister or Tavington's sulking, it was not clear. "At risk of sounding odd, the colonel is a fairly attractive man. His sister is astonishingly beautiful. You did not see her?"

"No. I was carrying papers for the colonel."

"Ah. But Joseph, she was so lovely and fun—she had a wit to her, sometimes dangerously sharp. But Miss Tavington lavished me with much of her attention…." His voice had become wistful and yearning. "It is a pity she left so abruptly."

"Indeed," she answered, smiling inwardly. "So you've taken a liking to her, John?"

Bordon colored in response. "Yes, but I fear no one can top the new lieutenant. He saw her but once last night, hardly spoke to her, but proclaims he will die without her love, for she is a goddess, &c. My poor cousin."

"'Poor cousin?' You brought family into this fray?"

"He's a cousin several times removed only after being related by marriage in the first place. How surprised he was to see me."

"I pity Miss Tavington, then. If I recall "The Knight's Tale" correctly, she is going to be slighted the one who deserves her…. So, who are you, John? Arcite or Palamon?"

A call from the colonel at the head of the galloping column prompted Bordon to leave his friend's side. But, as he rode off, he said gravely: "Palamon, I pray."

Constance could only wonder.

The day was, for the most part, dull and uneventful. Nothing happened as they ranged about, guarding the supply lines. A few whistled, carefree, as they trotted through a field of cotton. The white bolls were dislodged in the wind and tickled across Constance's cheek as they floated upward. Things were shockingly peaceful. 

A cry rose up from the men toward the front. Some dismounted. Still more turned away in disgust.

Several soldiers of the King's Army had been slaughtered and lay at odd angles after their murderers had searched the corpses. Some had been hacked at with some sort of blade, probably having been still alive and fighting. All the corpses had been looted—guns, swords, even buttons, buckles, and any other bit that could be sold for any sort of gain.

Constance slid from the saddle. She found a young officer slit from breast to belly. One hand had been clenched over his stomach in efforts to hold in his entrails, while the other hand held a little white handkerchief. There were superficial wounds in his arm and leg.

He had been waving that handkerchief for quarter. Some militiaman had murdered the surrendering man out of pure malice.

Tavington rode to her side, stone faced. "Ride back to camp and get assistance for bringing these poor boys back." His eyes wandered to the dead officer, and the colonel shook his head.

"All right." Constance mounted and watched her brother a moment. William pinched his eyes closed.

He muttered: "I am sorry." To whom it was addressed, to her or the dead officer, Constance knew not. As she was about to leave, she heard him released a choked sob.

"Sir?" she said softly, then even softer still: "Brother?"

"I-I knew him well. A good number of these men the yokels murder have been my friends—whatever you have _ever_ heard of my reputation, take into consideration _my_ injuries…. God, Constance, I hate this so much. I strain myself for the advancement of a man wallowing in too much glory to go do his own dirty work. And for it, he chides me more, never content with it."

Constance sighed. She wished to take his hand but could only bring herself to say: "I know, William, I know." And she heeled into Hermes, charging back for camp. With as angered as she had been with him, and as seemingly cruel as he could be, there was certainly a heart beating within his breast. Some how, she understood, and she forgave him.

__

Next chapter: Bordon gets drunk and admits his love for Constance and his intent to escort to a half-mentioned ball at Middleton Place. Fife is furious, and only Constance herself (in a dress) can stop it.


	7. Love Makes Asses of us All

A/N (A REAL A/N): Um, so I lied. I decided NOT to let Bordon get drunk. It's just not him. Ok guys, I am completely winging this chapter. You probably wouldn't guess, but up until now, I have actually at least _attempted_ to hand-write something. And Izzy—I'm sorry: for some reason, Fife just takes on some random characteristics of "Haldir the Happy" *sniggers* Be afraid. Be _very_ afraid. Key part to this chapter: love makes asses of us all.

Everyone was sullen in the mess tent. Even Wilkins had been struck deep enough by the butchered corpses to give Joseph a day's reprieve on taunting. Instead, the captain sat with a face of iron in the corner, clenching a mug of ale but was seemingly too afraid to drink. Occasionally, he would shudder and squinch his eyes closed.

It was raining outside. Constance frowned with displeasure. A streak of lightening followed by a God-awful chord of thunder made her jump. Ever since her dunce middle brother had forgot her outside in a thunderstorm when she was three, Constance would become panic stricken at the onset of a storm. And these southern storms were particularly vicious. 

Fife strolled in, dripping wet, with a handsome grin thrown across his features. Bordon noted him in the corner of his eye and nodded courteously. 

"Well, fellows, why so glum?" the chipper lieutenant asked, folding his arms across his chest. "We ought be thankful and celebrating that _we're_ not the ones dead!"

A chorus of half-hearted ayes and amens circulated the tent. Fife settled down with some rum. He downed it, then smiled again. "That's enough to purge my memory."

Bordon sneered and moved to sit by Constance. "That man is horrid, though I guess he had no particular attachment to any of those men. I did not either, but I believe it more respectful to—"

"Miss Tavington is gone, there's nothing to _do!_" Wilkins cried aloud finally. A few others snickered. 

"Captain, that is hardly an appropriate comment," Bordon returned snappishly. "Especially when it is about the colonel's sister."

Fife had to add his two cents. "Oh, pish, Captain Bordon, sir. I take it you are married then? Either that or gelded."

The captain was indignant. "No, Lieutenant Fife. I find it better to keep my inclinations to myself. You find yourself in less trouble that way. As a gentleman, Fife, I suggest it as a good tenet to live by."

The lieutenant giggled. "Oh, really, captain? Pray tell us, what are your inclinations' toward the lady?" 

"That is my own business."

"Very well, sir. I respect that, but you are definitely no fun." 

Bordon stewed, growing red in the face. 

Fife chuckled at his expression and carelessly waved a hand at him. "Lookit him, fellows! He's gone scarlet as a grenadier's coat! Methinks he _adores_ the lady. No, _loves_ her!"

"And what of it?" Bordon snapped. "I am as entitled to affection as you. Give me a good reason for why she should prefer you over me?"

"I am younger," Fife said a little arrogantly. "And more handsome." The others snickered.

The captain looked down at the table. Constance put a hand on his arm. 

She rose and faced Fife. "She is not a good woman if that is all she would dare to fall in love with."

"Well said," Bordon murmured.

"Perhaps, perhaps," the lieutenant replied, nodding. "At least it is a place to start."

Captain Bordon pulled his friend back onto the bench. "Fine, Lieutenant Fife, I will admit that I have a soft place for her in my heart, but who here does not? Perhaps my intentions are more pure than most of yours, but we are all bound by that common feeling."

"Soft place? I think hard" Wilkins laughed. 

His statement was not dignified with a response. "Yes, and so, Mr. Fife, I do believe I will have her brother's consent to escort her to the Middleton Ball."

"Sorry, sir. She's going with me."

Constance rose again. "Does anyone care what _she_ may think?" The others erupted in laughter and a few even snickered "buggerer." She was not deterred. "You seem to think that woman was put on the earth for the whim of man."

"Indeed, Mr. Carleton," Bordon nodded. 

"No one cares, Carleton! Sit down," Wilkins bellowed. 

Bordon came to his friend's defense again. "What a fine lot of gentlemen you are, believing you may use such a small frail thing in such a horrible manner. A woman's heart, when set, is the truest thing you may ever find, but yet you gentlemen' ignore it and go and play about with your mistresses. I _know_ a good number of you here are married, _Captain Wilkins_."

Though offended by the frailty part, Constance nodded in perfect agreement.

"Well even better! The better chances we unmarried fellows have if half of you are chained," Fife beamed. "You know, she'll probably be up for a bit of fun after the party."

"You would not_ dare_." Bordon looked dangerous.

"What's stopping me?'

"The colonel."

Fife waved him off. "Oh, enough! Everyone knows very well he has _no_ control over her. Last night, in the tent, did you see how he burned when she invited us to play cards? He wasn't happy, but he sure as Hell wasn't going to say anything. And why'd she just run off? He couldn't have stopped her. You know it. And you couldn't have either."

"What great charm do you have that would have kept her here?" 

Constance shook her head mournfully. Why Captain Bordon was sinking to this level was bewildering. But the fact they were about to kill each other over her was sort of an ego boost. She couldn't let this go too far. She got up and ran.

---

Constance returned just in the nick of time. Bordon had just launched himself at Fife and had begun to pummel the little man when the rustle of skirts caught everyone's attention.

"Evening, gentlemen," she chirped with a curtsey to the stunned Captain Bordon. "Oh dear, what's this?"

"We, um, ah" the lieutenant stammered. Bordon dropped his fist and gawked at her.

Constance wrenched Bordon up by the arm. "You boys. Children, we must be able to play _nicely_ together. Mr. Fife, please get up before I have to get my brother in here. He will not be pleased."

Tobias Fife climbed to his feet and brushed off his breeches. His eyes narrowed on Bordon, who was now straightening out his jacket. The captain was humiliated, crossing to the very farthest corner of the tent and seeming to melt into the shadows.

"I can ignore the fact I saw this, you two," she warned, wiping at Fife's bloodied lip with her handkerchief. The lieutenant sent a mocking look to his superior. "Captain Bordon?"

He pretended not to hear. Constance walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his eyes to hers, then looked away in shame. Whatever chance he may have ever had with her, he knew he had just lost. She lifted his chin.

"Are you all right?" Her tone was soft and maternal, and her eyes were wide. 

He nodded, but his visage expressed that he did not wish to go into depth.

"Very well then," she sighed, seeing he was alienating himself. Their eyes met again for a moment, and he squinted in recognition. No, it couldn't be. Constance rose from his side, then bent down and kissed his forehead before she exited as suddenly as she had appeared.

Fife's jaw dropped as she left him with only her handkerchief dabbed in his own blood.

__

Next chapter: Constance vents to her brother.


	8. (For lack of better title) GRRR...

"Fine! I'll do it! You win!" Constance cried, storming into her brother's tent. Imagine his surprise—she was back as herself, proclaiming that he had just won something. But what? Her face was stormy, and her green eyes swirled in rage like twin maelstroms. Her brother shuddered involuntarily, somewhat frightened.

Tavington sat up and lay his book on the desk. "I would be elated, Constance, had I any idea what you are talking about."

"I never should have come as myself in the first place. I wasn't thinking—what am I even thinking _now_? Now every man in your corps wants to tup me, save Bordon, who only wants to do that _eventually._"

He was still confused. "But—but what did I 'win?' You've got me lost, little sister."

"I'll get married. It'll stop all this foolishness. If I'm shackled to—"

William laughed. "Constance, you are a very comely young woman. Marrying you off does not stop men from goggling at you. As long as you have a pretty face and a fine form, you will turn heads."

"Then what am I going to do-_ooo_?" she stamped her foot childishly and balled a lock of her hair in her fist. The woman's brows were clenching and stormy, and knitting so furiously, they may as well have turned out a sweater. "It would be simple if the whole lot of you were eunuchs and not soldiers."

"Oh, the cruel fates," he responded, crossing his legs.

"Oh, you poor men," she sneered, waving a hand at him coldly. "No brains to speak of in your head…."

"Hey!"

She threw up her hands. "Where would I be, brother, if that was not true? Just think on it, all right? Imagine where your beloved little Kitty would be right now if men truly thought."

"Well—"

"Well, I would likely be married now, had father known he needn't prove he had such big—"

"_Constance_." William looked at her drily. "You need not venture there."

A dark look crossed her face, followed by the Tavington purse-lipped scowl. "Depending on which interpretation, no, I've no desire to venture there. However, I say _there_ is the root of all evil. Try and figure it out via all the cause and effect, 'metaphysico-theologo-cosmolologo-noodleology*' you male scientists have come up with. You'll see I'm right." Her tone and eyes were deeply cynical and mocking.

There was an odd smile now lighting his features, and she continued:

"I absolutely cannot get anywhere in this world, now that I'm not wealthy and pure. Funny how things that aren't your fault suddenly become your _faults_. But you see, the only way I can do anything is to marry. Pah! Fine luck I would have if the most wonderful man just fell from the sky right now and professed his undying love."

"Sister, you mustn't give up hope just yet."

"And why not? I've no chance of attaining anything good in this life by any other means."

"I will see what I can do for you, Kitty. You were ruined because I wasn't there to help you." He flashed a smile he thought guaranteed to redeem himself to her. It was met but the most acrid glare one can imagine to throw across her fair visage.

Constance shook her head. "Wonderful. Now you are patronizing me." She put her fingertips to her temples, mind reeling.

Tavington took one of her hand and covered it with his. Kindly, he kissed his sister's hand. "Dear, I can assure you your fortune is made. There are many fine Tory men around here, many distinguishing themselves in military service. There are gentlemen who will love you. But who do _you_ have in mind for marriage?"

Constance shrugged. "Hopefully someone who will at least give me some consideration, someone loyal."

"Loyal as in fidelity, or loyal as in Loyalist Lieutenant Tobias Fife?"

"Oh-ho no, not Fife, brother."

"Why not?"

"He'd forget me the moment some trollop walked by."

He gave a forced smile squeezed her hand. A humid blanket of silence fell on them for a moment. "I cannot immediately think of anyone who would meet your—"

"Sir?" Bordon's quiet voice came from the entrance.

* "Metaphysico-theologo-cosmolologo-noodleology" is from Voltaire's _Candide, _and is a degree held by the philosopher Dr. Pangloss (also the name of one of my goldfish, Candide naturally being the other one :P)

__

Next chapter: A brief conversation with Captain Bordon, and the horrible fete.


	9. The Aptly Titled Chapter Nine

A/N: Didja miss me last chapter? This is a LONG chapter. **Again, change in plan: The debate over Fife and Bordon's punishment, and the fete from hell.** Sorry guys, I just didn't know how to do the chapter the way I had originally planned it with out being WAAAAAAAY corny. Be careful—I wrote a naughty word in the second half (I still censured it though). Just to warn you.

Captain Bordon stood in the entrance, contemplating Constance and fighting to keep from weeping. His humiliation ran deep, and he greatly feared that the colonel had already learned of the fight. Bordon wished she would leave, as he had already made an ass of himself before the object of his affection not even an hour ago. Yes, he had a gotten a kiss out of it all, but it was only out of pity. She doesn't care in the least, he thought.

Constance offered her hand to him and pulled him out of the rain. With a kind smile to counteract the displeased sneer of her brother, the woman retrieved a blanket from Tavington's quarters and wrapped her friend in it.

"Here, get warm, Captain Bordon." Quietly, she relinquished her seat to him and stood in the corner like a perfect subservient automaton. No part of her but her eyes in blinking moved, just like a perfect soldier. Bordon thought it unsettling.

"Captain Bordon, for what reasons am I burdened by this visit?" William growled.

"_Brother_."

Tavington pointed at her. "Enough you. You've no idea how irksome these men can be."

"He's your subaltern, William, not your mortal enemy. And at that, he's _tangible_."

The colonel's eye twitched in restrained fury at her spectral allusion. In camp, the Ghost was _beyond_ off limits. It was the 'hit below the belt' when dealing with the colonel. Tavington turned sharply to Bordon. The captain lowered his eyes in shame.

"What's wrong with—"

"Sir!" Fife barged in, dripping wet and raging. He saw Bordon, and chuckled at this added convenience. Waving a hand wildly at the captain, Tobias shrilled: "That man has assaulted me! Miss Tavington can vouch for me, as can all my bruises!"

"Oh-_hhh_?" Tavington smirked, settling back into his chair. What was it with playing mediator these past few days? If the two junior officers decided to bring it to fist fighting, the evening would not be a_ complete_ loss…. Fife was definitely hotheaded enough, apparently. "Proceed, Lieutenant."

"Captain Bordon here cannot take a bit of good natured ribbing and jumped on me. It was a good thing your lovely sister walked in at that moment, or methinks I wouldn't have much of a face now!"

"Well Mr. Fife, what was it that you were saying? I feel no pity for you if you have brought this upon yourself with your own words."

"Um, ah—"

"Sir," Bordon cut in, "he was asking me lewd things about your sister. She's my witness."

Tavington looked at his sister with a broad smile. "I believe in this sort of situation where you two were obviously thinking with something other than your brain that I trust her more. My sister is an honest woman, completely fair despite any bias she may have."

She narrowed her eyes at her brother, mouthing some threat. "William, you just solved it yourself. Neither demonstrated appropriate discretion, and therefore should be punished equally. Mr. Fife issued the same amount of verbal abuse as Mr. Bordon issued in physical abuse. Fife's words were foul enough to injure my dignity enough that his consequence ought to be just as severe as the captain's."

Fife was indignant, and Bordon lowered his head. 

"What do you suggest their penalty be, Constance?" William folded his hands on his stomach.

She pondered a moment. "Brother, I believe they have both given each other enough for now. As silly as their spat was, their justifications, not to sound egotistic, were reasonable. We've all done silly things for love, or what we think is love. I do not approve, and I will recommend a _far_ more severe punishment if I learn of this happening again."

"You are too lenient."

"You are not lenient enough, William Tavington."

"I cannot allow this to go unpunished, Constance. I'm sorry I must over rule your decision."

She shrugged. "It wasn't mine to make in the first place. However, I find it funny when hypocrites dare to speak. I recall a lust inspired young man named _William T._ nearly killed his own best friend over some silly slut with the pox. Hmm, wonder who _that_ could have been?"

"She wasn't a slut, and she did not have the pox!" 

Constance rolled her eyes. "Judge at your discretion, brother. I am only the comely _advocatus diaboli _in this situation."

Tavington seethed, then pointed to the exit. "Both of you leave me to think! Go!" 

His sister smiled kindly to both of the retreating men, then turned to her brother. "How many times do you think Lieutenant Fife will ask to escort me to the Middleton ball tomorrow?"

Suddenly, the colonel's eyes widened in horror. "That's tomorrow? No, it can't be."

"Oh, aye," she said with a raise in pitch on the 'aye', all the while nibbling on a fingernail. "I've got the most lovely gown. 'Tis a beautiful powdery green satin sack-back. It is very nice with my eyes."

William lay his head on the desk and buried it under his arms. "God help me."

---

Oddly enough, Fife and Bordon were reserved in dealing with Constance, though both thought she was the epitome of angelic in the failing light of the evening. Instead, Wilkins was an obnoxious satellite with the desire to cater to her every miniscule whim. She stayed close by her brother, but that did not deter the amorous captain in the least.

"Constance!"

"Will you buzz off, you little piss ant?" she fumed, slapping his offered hand with her fan. "You disgrace me, and I wish to wretch!"

"Please? I adore you and think you're pretty!"

"_F--- off_," Constance answered, squaring herself against him, her voice dangerously low.

"Miss Tavington, I'd be sooo greatly honored if you'd promenade with me a bit…" he whined, bowing low. He ventured to take her hand and kiss it, but she smacked him away. He only persisted. 

William grew irritated, not only at having to deal with the stupid Captain, but on behalf of his baby sister. "Captain James Wilkins," Tavington sneered, "the lady has refused. I will not abide the mistreatment of a woman in my sight, especially when she is my _little sister._" His tone took on a furious grate as he stared down his underling. 

Wilkins sulked away with a thousand bows to Constance and an obscene gesture to William when his back was turned. 

"Lord, is that man annoying!" she murmured to her brother. He ignored her though as General O'Hara approached them. William bowed to his superior with a straight face, and his sister curtsied. The young general did likewise courtesies to Tavington and Constance, bowing a little deeper to the latter. 

"The Lord General wishes to have a word with you, Colonel Tavington," O'Hara said with reservation. 

"Yes, sir." The colonel squeezed his sister's hand. "You be careful. Hurt him if you must."

Constance nodded. She watched after her brother's retreating form with concern. This could not be good. Joseph Carleton may need to return that night. Her brow creased as she thought, and to try and put any fears out of her head, she went to walk.

Wilkins saw her alone and immediately pursued. He put a hand on her waist and began to whisper in her ear. Constance spun around.

"God damn you! Get your hands off me this instant. You do me no honor, Wilkins, treating me like a base whore! You lower yourself and me with this display! Worship me properly—from a _distance_!"

"Not until you walk with me. I only ask that much, Constance."

"Captain Wilkins, leave her alone."

Wilkins looked up to find Bordon's displeased eyes fixed on him. He laughed and said: "Oh, if it isn't the colonel's eunuch lap dog!"

"Jimmy, get away from her. I mean it, too." Fife now appeared beside the disapproving captain. 

Constance was surprised by this united front, but doubted whether it was premeditated. They had probably observed the commotion and chose to help. She stared pleadingly at both of them. Tobias Fife took a step forward, and Wilkins backed away from the woman with his hands up.

"Stay away from her," Bordon added, ushering his peer away. "You will only get yourself into worse trouble with her brother if you make a nuisance of yourself." He shoved the captain away and returned to Constance's side with a nod to Fife.

"Whoa, what's this? What's going on? You two were about to kill each other last night! I don't understand—"

"Lieutenant Fife is a rational man, Miss Tavington. He and I discussed our disgraceful behavior last night after we left the company of your brother. We've agreed that we have nothing to fight about, because you will favor who you will favor, and all we can do is pray." Captain Bordon smiled.

Fife flashed his champion smile. 

"That's awful chivalrous…I think…." She was still suspicious.

"We mean nothing but for your safety, Miss Tavington," Tobias said humbly. "It will keep us on a good page with your brother, too."

"Speaking of, have you seen where your brother went?"

"He went inside, Captain. Lord Cornwallis summoned him."

Bordon winced. "This cannot be good. Excuse me." He brushed by them and hurried toward the house. Constance was now doubly worried—her brother must be in trouble, and she was alone with Fife. 

"Miss?" the lieutenant asked softly, offering his arm to her. He sensed her trepidation. "I promise I won't be disloyal to the pact between the captain and me. I fully meant it, and I take Captain Bordon for a man not to be perfidious."

She still had her doubts, but she delicately took hold of his arm just above the elbow in a leap of faith. He smiled and strolled along with her through the garden. Other couples admired them and said they made a fine pair—words that made Constance shudder.

"Are you all right, Miss Tavington?" he questioned.

"Yeah, it's nothing. I'm being silly."

"You haven't yet said a word."

"A word."

The lieutenant laughed and patted her hand. "You are different."

Constance raised an eyebrow, but did not wish to discuss it further. "How did you get Wilkins to clear away like that? I am forever indebted to you and captain Bordon for that."

"I've know 'Jimmy' for as long as I can remember, and for the worst reasons. He was my father's attorney. That captain isn't the brightest and is a fraud, and therefore, he wasn't the greatest lawyer. He lost my father loads of money—either in various court battles over trade practices and for legal fees—and when my father died, Wilkins willed _my_ inheritance over to himself. So, I'm dirt poor, Miss Tavington." He bit his lip. "I can't measure up in esteem to someone like you or your brother. I joined the army to earn something back, a piece of my own land now that my house has been sold off because of that bastard."

"But why is he afraid of you?"

The secretive smile returned to his face. "I knocked him out before. Twice. One time he wanted to fight me when I used to do some prizefighting. The second time was when he stole my damned house! I got put in jail for that, until my brother-in-law had me bailed out."

"That's terrible!" Constance cried. "You aren't making this up? Not one bit?"

"Not at all. I am perfectly serious. That's not something a man can easily lie about, especially in the company of a woman he is drawn to."

She smiled. "You are nothing like you have been the past few days."

Fife chuckled and shook his head. "I'm ashamed you had to be caught in the cross fire of all _that_. Men, Miss Tavington, are just like dogs. We have to stake out our territory, then bluster and brag to get the respect of the rest of the pack. Then follows friendship, and when everyone respects one another enough, then you have a pack of brothers who won't let anything happen to one of the others. At least, that's how it was in my last regiment…. These men are different."

William charged down the steps, Bordon in his wake. The colonel was stony faced and offended, more so than usual, while his subaltern looked about with moist eyes and humbled visage. Tavington reassumed his place at his sister's side. Fife backed away when the icy aura of his superior struck. He remained by Constance in her attendance. 

"Brother," Constance began to entreat, "if I may continue my circuit of the gardens with the good captain and lieutenant—"

"No. You are staying right here."

"William, please. I only—"

He glared at her. "What did I say? I said no. I'm not allowing you to roam around the park with Wilkins ranging about, especially alone with those two. Wilkins would easily convince them an orgy in the gazebo would be worthwhile."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and abhorrence. "Why must you ruin my fun? I can't go anywhere by myself because you'll just follow me."

"Must everyone ruin _my_ fun?" he spat.

Her face darkened, and the two junior officers wisely stepped back as a battle of the Tavingtons appeared imminent.

"Just because the lord general is angry with you doesn't mean you must spoil my time. I came here as a favor to you, so you did not appear so miserable to these people you could not even find a person to attend a fete with you."

"This has nothing to do with the lord general!" he cried, throwing up his hands. "This has to do with my little sister! I will not allow her to put herself into a situation where her honor may be in question!"

"I am walking with Captain Bordon. Aye, I see your point if it were, say, Wilkins. Look at him—look at Mr. Fife! They think they are lucky to breathe the same air as me! They've reconciled, brother, and they've saved me from Wilkins already tonight. I know it's hard to believe, and horribly sudden, but they are not about to do each other or me any harm."

He pursed his lips and frowned at Constance. "As you wish. Gentlemen, keep Wilkins at bay."

The captain bowed and offered his arm to the lady. She attached herself with a brilliant smile. Seeing the obvious pain in her sibling's eyes, from either the obvious quarrel with the general or her disobedience, she kissed his cheek in parting.

"Oh, Will, do cheer up. It hurts me to see you like this—it always has." Her eyes were filled with care and tenderness. 

William muttered something into his drink.

"Brother, this is only a garden party. There are worse things, like the Mischianza—"

Another incoherent grumble funneled into the glass.

"Perhaps Lord Cornwallis will be kind enough to allow you to have your own party some day. I can ask him, if you'd like."

"And what do you propose?" he asked sullenly.

"An auto-da-fe?" Constance shrugged innocently.

The colonel's face was rigid as his green eyes bored into hers. Then, as if a miracle, he burst into laughter. He waved her away, chuckling light heartedly. Those nearby wondered who could have been so utterly hilarious as to send _Colonel William Tavington_ into a fit of giggles.

"Kitty, you are an odd one indeed. Go, have fun, and think of your poor brother."

"Why? You're boring."

Another wry smile came across his face, though there was bit of sadness in it that always accompanies the truth.

"Oh, Will, I'm only teasing you. Now, when this is all over, I'll make some tea and we'll all play cards until the wee hours of the night and pretend _this_ never happened. Agreed?"

He nodded childishly to the maternal tone of her voice. The sister smiled sweetly on her brother before turning with her companions to take an ambage of the garden. 

They had not taken four steps when, out across the still sheet of water, a supply ship was rent apart in a blazing balled inferno. The sound of the explosion and the screams of the burning sailors weakened Constance. She fell, her knees wobbling, but she refused to faint as many of the other ladies did. Bordon hauled her to her feet and began to lead her away to the house. Tobias followed, casting horrified glances over his shoulder. 

William Tavington downed his champagne in a single gulp and smashed the glass on the walk in a fury. He turned away from the two young ladies who sidled up to flirt and stalked into the house to have another "chat" with the lord general.

__

Next chapter: William becomes really homicidal in efforts to appease the generals, and the

Capture of some of the Ghost's men.


	10. The Afterglow...or Lack Thereof

****

SKIP THIS PART THIS IF YOU ARE NOT MAD AT ME!

A/N TO IZZY AND THOSE WHO **AGREE** WITH HER: All I have to say is NYAH! So I 'lied' twice because the story just would not work the way I had planned it…_ooh, call the freaking Karma Kops_! And who wants to hear about Constance's uterus? People certainly don't care to hear the saga of MY uterus… (There's no saga folks, I'm only 16) Though, I guess I gotta give you credit for the injury idea, and the lauding of Constance. Interesting—I may toy with those ideas…. Anyhow, *mandatory eye-roll and loss of air.* Just to spite you, I am going to jump directly to Chapter 11! HAHAHAHA! Ok, enough now of the illogical—of course I can't just jump to chapter 11. Had you scared though, huh? BTW—Tav goes kinda Haldir the Happy/Lord Farquaad bonkers in this due to job related stress. *Hugs to poor Will*

"Joseph Carleton" had slipped in discretely in the middle of the night and went straight to William's tent. Constance barely batted an eye as _Don Quixote _came sailing at her head. She dodged it and crept closer to her brother. He was in a fury and at the moment, was not above a temper tantrum. Tavington grabbed her wrist and wrenched his sister to him.

"Dammit, Constance! You are not getting involved again! I won't have it!"

She went to embrace him in hopes to calm him, but he would not allow her affection.

"Don't you even try to pull this now, girl! You go change into respectable clothes this instant. This is my fight, not yours, and I will not drag my sister into the middle of an ambush."

"William, let me come. I—"

"I said no!"

"You cannot do that! I am a soldier! You need me!"

He turned away to undo his cravat. "Put it out of thought, Constance. We are riding out in the morning to set a trap, and you will not be joining us. Go put on some normal clothes."

"I am a _soldier_!" she persisted. "I cannot just sit here while the rest of you are out fighting."

"You are a woman, Constance Tavington, and most of the time, no better than a little girl!" The colonel returned his eyes to her with an expression so horrifying that she shrank away, convinced that this brute before her was only a fraud masquerading as her brother. "Fine, play soldier. Follow my orders! Stay here in the morning. _And get dressed, God damn it!_"

"Brother, I promised that I would protect you!"

"You can protect me by remaining right where you are," he sighed, repentant for his nastiness. "Just think how the general will praise me if you get hurt and it's discovered that Joseph Carleton is really a woman, and my sister no less! I'd be blamed for letting you get yourself into this, it would be as much my fault as if I had leveled my gun at you and fired. I would be forever shamed more than you can imagine. I cannot let you go."

"No!"

Colonel Tavington took hold of her face, cupping her cheeks in his palms. "Look at me. Am I doing this to be cruel? That's the last thing on my mind, and you know that. I want you to be safe because you are worth so much more than you imply you are by sacrificing yourself to ingrates. Please, Kitty, stay here." He kissed her forehead. "I'm worried for your safety."

There was no reasoning with him. She nodded sadly as she betrayed her vow. Her brother held her tight in his arms, and Constance felt tears fall into her hair. _Poor Will_, she thought. _So frazzled and under appreciated. _She realized he really _could_ be sweet and a good big brother, when he tried.

"Thank you, Kitty. I cannot promise you I'll be safe, but I'll do my best."

---

No one had any memories of the party prior to the explosion. It had only been a few hours earlier when dawn found the dragoons assembling at the encampment. Tavington was very subdued, but it had nothing to do with lack of sleep. He had been cursed by Lord Cornwallis for the better part of an hour, because, some how, the ship bursting into flame naturally had to be the colonel's fault. And then there was the squabble with Constance….

Constance emerged from her brother's tent with a white lawn shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders. Tavington pressed her hand in assurance before riding up to organize his corps. Bordon walked up beside her, leading his horse. 

"You look distraught, Miss Tavington," he said softly, forcing back a yawn.

"I'm worried about William, is all. He's been stretched so thin to appease everyone that I fear he may drop his guard and get hurt." She focused her gaze now on the captain and smiled wanly.

"I will keep an eye on him for you. I won't let anything happen to him." He offered a well-meaning grin and brought her hand to his lips. "Promise."

She nodded, pulling her shawl even closer. "Thank you, captain." Their eyes met and locked. There was something radiant sparkling in his iris' while hers were dull and concerned. He did something no one would have ever thought prim and proper John Bordon would dare to even think of. Captain Bordon swept her to him with an arm around her waist and kissed her. Constance was astounded and confused.

"Yes, I'll keep an eye on him now that he won't let you ride with us," Bordon said with a wink when he parted from her.

"_What_? You _know_?" Her face drained of its color to a pallor dimmer than that of her shawl.

"I'm not a fool, Miss Tavington. I figured it out days ago."

"Does—does Lieutenant Fife know?"

Bordon shook his head. "I do not think so. Your secret is safe, dear, do not fear."

She lowered her eyes, and he climbed into the saddle. Captain Bordon studied her for a moment before he went to join Colonel Tavington. In a moment, the men were organized and galloping away through the meadow. Constance stamped her foot with a scream when they were gone. She did not know if she were more angry or frightened. 

---

__

Thank God! William thought as he peered through his spyglass down at the slowly proceeding baggage train. Now he did not have to worry about fighting twice as hard to keep both himself and his sister alive. She could think she was an apt fighter and a soldier as much as she liked, but there was no way in Hell she would live through even a little skirmish in the woods. Constance would be more likely to flee than fight when it came down to it. 

Captain Bordon joined him at the crest of the hill. It would be any moment now when that ill led band of militia would materialize from the trees to take the bait. Then would they ever be in for a surprise! That wagon was not loaded with supplies and personal effects of the general, but instead it was full of armed soldiers ready to massacre the militia. But that was not it. Even better still was when the cavalry would charge down the hill and end this insurrection within an insurrection. Just thinking about how stupidly simple, but perfect, this plan was made Tavington beam like the proud papa of this strategical brainchild.

He was almost giddy with malign delight when a line of militia appeared and halted the sergeant at the head of the procession. There seemed to be some exchange of words between the two, and then the plan sprang into action. The wagon's cover was ripped away and out jumped the troopers. The militia took a step back, and then someone pointed out the dragoons. A minor bother to be discovered, but oh well. This would still be fun. The colonel collapsed his telescope and tucked it away before leading the charge down the hill.

A shot was fired by the militia leader, that "Ghost" fellow, as he fled. Tavington giggled in his head and ploughed headlong into the running farmers. He was like a sugared up kid in a pastry shop—this was fun! He may even bag himself a Ghost! Tavington gutted a yokel with what he thought was true finesse as he searched for that elusive farmer that was causing him so many problems. Yes, when this backwater colonel fell, the rebellion was as good as over. No colonist would dare wave a starred banner when they were no longer winning. The colonel fired a shot and took out another of the peasants.

Bordon had a tough time of keeping up when Will was so motivated, but he had to keep his word to Constance. The captain thundered after his leader and sliced away just as Tavington did. 

The colonel caught sight of the Ghost riding away and spurred into his mount to give chase. Bordon followed, naturally. However, it was too late—the militia leaders had slipped off via the river and were sloshing through the water back toward their camp. Tavington fired after them with half effort, but it was some consolation to find that his bullet felled one of the retreating riders. 

The Ghost had slipped away again, but no matter. There was a significant amount of his men captured or dead to keep the bumpkin quiet for a while. And oh, would the rebel colonel get his soon enough, no matter what. The ambush was not a total loss, though they prodded the prisoners, sans apparition, to Fort Carolina to be hanged. 

Tavington whistled a little ditty all the way to the fort, quite pleased with himself.

__

Next chapter: Constance sojourns to the fort, and **meets**_ the_

man that is causing her brother so much grief.


	11. Constance Meets Various Yokels of the Pa...

****

(Don't read this part, me being mean/vulgar again) A/N: Oh, Izzy, you are lucky I love you sooo much…. Here's chapter eleven while I thumb my nose at you…and your freakin' uterus.

Constance was incredibly bored. William had been ranging about for nearly two days. Reading lost its sparkle after a marathon session with the book her brother had flung at the other night. She wandered around camp, but there was no one to talk to. There was no one she had to write, her brother had not hinted that he needed laundry done, and there was _no way_ she was going to neaten up his quarters. Absolutely _nothing to do!_

On a whim, she visited Roxelana, her horse, to braid her mane. The mare whickered and nuzzled her mistress, pleading for some form of snack as Constance wove powder blue and yellow ribbons into the horse's mane. Constance was pleased with herself, and smiled brightly when finished.

"There, Rox, now we match!" She indicated her pale blue bodice and skirt with dim vertical yellow stripes. The horse stared at her, uncaring, then lipped at Constance's sleeve. 

"I think we shall go for a visit, Rox. Will is probably at the fort, so why not go bother him?" It was a silly idea, raising her brother's ire by randomly appearing at the fort, but at least it would be _something_ to quell the boredom. Constance returned to her brother's tent and grabbed her hat. 

Roxelana skittered away when she saw Constance returning with tack. The woman dropped the equipment with a sigh, clamped a hand on top of her hat to keep it down, and chased her horse around the paddock to no avail. She sat down in a huff and the mare mockingly pranced back with a whinny.

"You are _such_ a brat!" 

The mare was the epitome of docility as Constance slipped on her bridle, and the horse munched on daisies while she was saddled. She stretched out her neck and whinnied as Constance climbed into the saddle. The woman adjusted herself in the sidesaddle and nudged Roxelana with her heel. Horse and rider cantered off to go find Will.

They charged through a meadow, Roxelana bounding through the long grass and dandelions with a pretentious high step. When they came upon the beaten cart path winding up to the fort, the horse continued her lofty gait and kicked up an impressive cloud of dust in her wake.

The swirl of dirt from Roxelana drew the attention of the sentries on the wall. They peered down at the little rider approaching and laughed. When the visitor halted at the gate, they heard Constance coughing from the dust as she shook out the dirty hems of her skirt, along with a "Gah, Roxelana—you are still a spoiled little brat!"

"Who goes there?" a sentry cried down at her with a grin on his face,

"Miss Constance Tavington, sister of Colonel William Tavington of the Green Dragoons, sir," she responded with another cough. "Ah, forgive me, the road's a bit dusty and it's bothering my breathing. Have you seen my brother here yet?"

The sentry gave a signal and the gates opened, but he did not respond to her query. Constance nodded her thanks and trotted Roxelana through the gate. She dismounted and led her horse around, searching for her brother. If there was any doubt that she was the dragoon colonel's sister, it was dispelled by their astonishingly similar eyes. A soldier took Roxelana and held the reins.

Constance halted in the middle of the courtyard and wrinkled her brow as several soldiers were laughing and testing the trap doors of a gallows. Then she saw a makeshift wooden cage containing roughly twenty grubby men, from whence came a variety of hoots and catcalls. Constance meandered over, removing her hat and holding it behind her back.

"Lovely day, eh, gentlemen?" she snickered. "What are you all doing here?"

"Wondering jus' that, dolly," one of them said, leering at her. Surprisingly, the grungiest and most vulgar looking of them whacked the man and drawled:

"Ma'am, we're stuck here 'cause that damned dragoon feller caught us wi' our pants down."

Constance winced. "That, sir, was not a colloquialism I cared to imagine."

There was priest amongst them who snickered a little and nodded in agreement. "John, this is obviously a lady of distinction. _Do_ try to speak with a little more class. Think of your own wife."

She smiled warmly. "I dare say your wife would not wish to hear that sort of description from a stranger. Well said, reverend." 

"Who might you be, ma'am, and what lucky officer's got you?" the prisoner, John, asked with a quirky chuckle. 

"Ha! That's a good one," Constance laughed, tucking back a loose wisp of her red hair. "I happily belong to no one, sir. I am only here looking for my brother. I cannot wait to see his face! He will get so flustered trying to hold in his rage that he looks like he'll fairly explode!" She giggled imagining Will's face. "I believe you are all acquainted with my brother."

"That stuffy lil' general whatsisname?"

"O'Hara?" the priest offered.

She shook her head. "The colonel. William Tavington." They collectively shrank back from her, and did not dare utter another word. She regarded the prisoners quizzically with a chuckle.

"Odd fellows you are. My brother is the loony one, not me."

"But, Miss, you are his sister! He may do worse than have us hanged if he learns what John said to you," the priest cried. "We'd do well to just be quiet."

The woman waved his words away. "I get worse in camp, believe you me. I am not so vindictive as my brother. If so, Captain Wilkins would no longer be a man."

"_Mr. Wilkins_?" The preacher was astonished. "Surely you jest. Mr. Wilkins is a good honest man and would never think of straying from his wife. You must be lying."

Constance smiled and nodded to him. "Sir, all men are not pillars of morality and celibacy, just as not all Tavingtons are sociopaths." She waited to see if they had picked up on her barb. Finally, she said: "Very well, I am looking for my brother. I will be on my way now." 

"It was a pleasure chattin' wi' you, ma'am," John said humbly. The eyes of the prisoner's followed her as she walked towards the gallows to ask the soldiers there about her brother. John looked distraught and asked the priest to write a letter to his wife. But first, they prayed.

Constance learned her brother was no where to be found and went to reclaim Roxelana. She mounted and turned for the gate. Just then a man bearing a white handkerchief tied to a stick rode in, followed by two massive dogs. She studied this new comer with interest as he dismounted and addressed a soldier. This man was obviously of some standing, likely with the rebel militia. His expression was worn and dull as his eyes flicked to the prisoners. He was strong from years behind the plow and was generally unimpressive except for a pair of shocking blue-grey eyes that lighted on her for a moment before focusing on the approaching General O'Hara. The man was directed inside, no doubt to parlay with General Cornwallis for the prisoners. The two dogs trotted obediently after him, tails waving.

She began to wonder and hesitated there a moment in thought. Could this be the man causing her brother so many problems? She doubted it, but you never could tell with these southerners. Constance tapped Roxelana and went through the gate at a walk. She did not get far before her brother and Captain Bordon galloped up.

"_What in Hell_?" William cried, reining up sharply. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay at camp!" His mount caracoled about her, and he was obviously in a hurry.

"I had nothing else to do, brother! You didn't even leave me linens to wash! God knows when the last time you had on a decent smelling shirt was…."

Bordon snickered. Tavington was not amused. 

"I was only looking for you, William. I got worried, and I thought it would be best to check the fort. That's all. I wasn't hunting rednecks on my own. Believe it or not, I do listen."

"To an extent," he replied dryly. "Come with us then. You can bat your eyelashes at O'Hara and probably get a tour of the house and supper to keep you occupied."

She sneered. I will decline, thank you. I will see you back at camp later."

Bordon glanced at her a little bashfully. He did not exactly smell like a dandy rose at that moment. Constance smiled at him and he ventured to return it. She immediately began to wonder about this man—had he not just grabbed her and kissed her the other day? Why was he acting so coy now? It had to be because of her brother. The captain nodded to her in a reserved fashion before they galloped away.

Constance continued down the path at an easy walk. Roxelana flicked her tail and chomped her bit, as if displeased with the slow pace. The woman began to whistle but immediately stopped when another group of riders met her. A young man in a grey coat lifted his hat and addressed her:

"Ma'am, has a man in black with two dogs come this way?"

Constance nodded. "Perhaps five, ten minutes ago, inside the fort."

"Thank you." The boy kicked into his horse charged with his followers to the fort.

She was disgusted. "See how damn interesting everything is once we leave the camp, Rox? I've talked to half the rebel militia and had them ogle me, all in a half-hour! We ought to get out more often—maybe I can be recognized as some rich fellow's long lost sister and learn that I really don't have such a mean, boring older brother."

Roxelana was, of course, indifferent. They rode on, enjoying the scenery and the fair weather. And soon, the same riders—plus the man from the fort, the two dogs, and the prisoners—returned. The man in the black coat halted them and rode alongside Constance. He nodded politely to her. She was amused.

"My men have told me of your kindness, Miss Tavington," he said with a dry smile. "You must be the sane one of your family."

"I assure you we are all sane, sir, only my brother is a little…focused." 

The man sneered. "And unrelenting. He is not fit to command."

Constance shook her head. "He is a bit domineering, but he is well organized. He cannot stand to fail, sir, and does his best to prevent it. My brother is a good man when not cynical and when his plans and ideals are not threatened."

"Apparently little boys impose upon his grand scheme?" the man asked bitterly.

"I know not what you mean, sir." She looked at him, the perfect picture of naivete.

His blue eyes fixed on her. "If only your brother was as innocent as you are, Miss. I pray you remain that way so my quarrel does not come to you. Good day." He heeled into his horse and galloped off with the rest.

Constance halted and allowed them to put a fair distance between them. She quaked with a venomous rage. So _that_ was him, the Ghost. _The man who had just threatened her. _It was no small wonder her brother wanted to gut him, and now she wished to do the same. She followed their path with her eyes, thinking it may be of use to her brother.

__

Next chapter: Wilkins goes after Constance and gets in 

trouble…with his **wife**_. _(*minor chord*)


	12. The Wonderful Chapter Twelve

A/N: Izzy, just for you, I threw in an extra part. Ha! This time I _added_ to it!

The men had already made it to camp by the time Constance returned at dusk. They were all miserable and in the mood to get drunk. There seemed to be a pattern of sullenness in the dragoons, revolving all around Colonel Tavington. He was Hell-bent on his missions, but no one else shared his enthusiasm, and therefore, they were never happy. _Never_. Even the "Tavington effect" was starting to take its toll on chipper Lieutenant Fife. He was moody and only greeted Constance with a grunt as he went by.

Constance needed to talk to someone now that she had an equal animosity directed toward the Ghost. She strode into the mess tent and looked around. Fife was brooding in a corner and probably would not be the greatest to converse with at the moment. Wilkins was staring at her, but not at her face. She pulled her fichu closer together and walked by him without making any eye contact. Frustrated, she turned for the entry. She stormed out, muttering, and bumped into someone. 

"Oh, sorry," she grumbled, stepping to the side.

"Miss Tavington?" It was Bordon. He took hold of her wrist.

"Captain Bordon—oh, I'm so sorry. I was not paying attention."

He smiled. "I could tell. Are you all right?"

"You know what, I am not all right. I'm quite angry, really." Constance stood erect and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm angry with a variety of people, ranging from my brother, to a bunch of deluded yokels, to Wilkins, to you, John, to—"

"Whoa, Constance—why me, if I may be so bold?" He was hurt, but there was a note of defensiveness in his voice. 

"Why are all of you men so strange?" she snapped. "What did you mean the other day by kis—"

He put a hand over her mouth, face dark. "Let us discuss this in private." Bordon led her away to his quarters and lit a candle. "All right now, what is your problem?"

"What in Hell did you kiss me for? You did it right in front of everyone, open as you please! Why, and what for? Are you trying to prove a point? And how do you know that I am Joseph?"

The captain drew himself up rigidly. "I will start with the last question. Your brother thinks I'm a buffoon, and I don't need _you _to_ believe_ it too. It's simple, Constance. Your voice and Joseph's voice are exactly the same. And I thought it funny how Joseph leaves to go carry papers for the colonel, and you just show up. Then I remember the colonel does not trust a single one of us and always carries his own papers to the general. Besides, how many cousins look exactly the same? Well perhaps in the colonies they do, but when you are plainly English..."

"All right, fine. Why hasn't anyone else figured it out?"

"I can't say, but until they see it, your secret is perfectly safe."

"Now, the kiss?"

He blanched and was not so bold any more. "Because, I, uh…. You betrayed me, but for the best."

"Huhn?" She peered clinically at him, entirely lost to his train of thought.

Captain Bordon regained composure and said solidly: "Joseph was my friend, my good friend. I loved him as friends do because he didn't treat me like I was lower than dirt, like everyone else. You, as you, show up and you were the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but the colonel's sister, so there was no way I'd be even able to look at you. You charmed me, you were kind to me, and I adored you. You stood up for me, however minute it may have been to you, to your own brother and I wanted to nothing but kiss you for it. 

"But then, I remembered. Constance and Joseph Carleton are one and the same. That only made me desire you more. And then Fife shows up and threatens every chance I may ever have! I saw you giggling on his arm at the Middleton ball and I panicked. Later, he and I were discussing you. He said to me, even though he sweats for you too, that if I was drawn to you, I should let you know it. So, that's why I kissed you the next day. I could have, and likely should have, expressed my affection some other way, but at the moment, it seemed like a good idea."

Constance nodded. "So, you've had this platonic love for me for how long?"

"From the moment I knew that the two people I loved most in the world were the same."

She began to pace, chewing on her little finger in anxiety. _This_ was strange, sudden information to process. To just brush this aside and forget it all was a difficult task. _Some women are cruel and can just laugh in the face of lovers, but I'm not that mean. I forgave _my_ stupid brother when he practically stated he was going to auction me off after all, didn't I? _she thought. Her brows furrowed and darkened, released, then clenched again. Constance was expecting Fife to barge in, as he seemed to have a tendency to do so, and begin kowtowing and begging for her hand in marriage.

No, only Bordon was there, waiting for her judgement in agonized silence. 

"You know, my brother would have a fit if he knew I was here, alone in your tent with you," she said finally with a strange smile. 

"_What is that supposed to mean_?" he moaned, throwing up his hands. "You can never give _anyone_ a clear answer, Constance!"

"What do you think it means?"

He glared at her, but then softened. "I _hope_ that it means you will accept me. What you really mean, I have not the faintest semblance of an idea."

"You have won me, I guess, but you cannot _have _me, John Bordon," she smiled, extending her hand. "You're a good man, and the only one who has respected me yet so far." The woman became suddenly serious. "If your treatment of me resembles that of Wilkins _at all_, do not expect me to ever even look at you again. Those are my only conditions."

Bordon took her in his arms and held her close to him. "I would go to Hell or any where else you would wish, Constance." He kissed her forehead.

"John?" Fife's voice implored from the entrance. _Ha! You're late_, Constance thought.

"Yes, Tobias?" the captain answered. "Come in." 

"I was just—hey…it worked, eh?" He pointed at Constance, who had arched her arms around her admirer's neck. Fife's face became flat and expressionless layered atop of the already present symptoms of the "Tavington effect."

Bordon's eyes were wide and somewhat ashamed again. "Yes, I guess it did."

"Well then, good for you," the lieutenant said curtly. "I'm sorry, Miss Tavington, but I have to speak with Captain Bordon here. Privately."

She nodded and slipped from the captain. Fife inclined toward her for a moment before facing the captain. Constance glanced back at them before leaving the tent. She was afraid of what was about to transpire in there. 

Constance found that the mess tent had nearly cleared out and, as it was well lit, went there to read. Did not want Will to launch into a conniption fit because she used _his_ lamp oil…. There were a few dragoons in there, chatting in low tones, but they did not bother her in the least. After some time, they got up and left. Constance read in peace for some time until a large man sat himself down opposite her. 

"'Ey."

"Pardon?" Constance lifted her eyes from the page. "Ugh, Captain Wilkins, please leave me in peace to read my book. I've been meaning to finish it for a while."

"I want to talk to you."

"Well, Captain, I don't wish to talk to you at the moment."

He was indignant. "And why's that? You're always mistreatin' me and ignorin' me. I only want you to pay me some attention."

"I do not like you. That is why, Captain Wilkins. Please, leave me alone."

Wilkins shook his head. He took her hand and held it so tightly that she could not jerk it away. Constance flailed her arm, trying to get him to release her.

"Let go of me!" She began to wince and whimper in his grip. "Please, let go of me!"

"Do you know how much I love you, Constance? You're so priddy…" he drawled, kissing her hand. He nibbled at one of her fingertips. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"That doesn't mean anything! I'm pretty, but I'm a real bitch! Let go of me, _now_." She continued to struggle against his hold, not matter how futile it was. 

He chuckled. "I know that. But I want you still want you anyway. You'd make a good wife, once I got you settled down and behavin'."

"Damn it, James Wilkins, let go of me, or I you will answer to my brother. No, either way, you'll answer to my brother for this. However, he'd probably go easier on you if you would release me!" But he did not let loose her hand, and so she took up her book and began to beat him with it. Wilkins growled and launched himself over the table at her. The man pinned her down on the table and began to kiss her. His hand strayed to her breast. Constance fought under him, but he smothered her.

Salvation came in the form of a long, high-pitched shriek similar to that of a farmer calling pigs: "Ja-Jaaaaaaaaaaaaa-AMES! _Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_-AMES!" Whoever was yelling paused a moment, then continued. "Ja-Ja-Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-AMES!"

There was stifled snickering from outside, and a large frumpy looking woman in an obnoxious bright green dress burst into the tent. Her chubby features were set in shock to see her husband atop some strange redheaded girl. The woman seemed ready to explode out of her corset in several different places as she huffed in rage. Wilkins froze with his hand in Constance's cleavage. 

"Madam, you must be sent by God!" Constance cried at the fat woman. "Get him off me!"

The woman glanced at Constance and gave a severe nod before puckering up her face in the most horrible variation of _the look_. She flew at Wilkins like a harpy. Constance's eyes widened in respectful awe. She fought to keep from laughing as the woman began to screech.

"So this is wha' ye're doin' now ye've gone frum home, eh?" she shrilled. "Or shoul' Ah say, who? Hmm? Ye leave me an' th' five chil'ren t' go an' fight yer war and ye attack sum poor girl instea' of th' en'my, eh? _GeddoffahernowaforeAhcountt'three_!*"

"Yes, Mrs. Wilkins. Of course, my dearest dear," Wilkins squeaked, sliding down from the table. "I've missed you, angel-sweets. Really, I have." Constance sat up.

She smacked him with a pudgy hand before grabbing hold of his ear. "Ye've better, ye bastard! Ain't sent us money t' stay fed an' wh'not! Think ye're th' big war hero, eh? Ah've had to fight t' feed those lil' bratsa yern!" Mrs. Wilkins carried on in a similar vein as she dragged her husband from the table. 

"Missy, ye're a priddy girl. Keep 'way from roamin' tomcats like this'n! Ye won't end up like me!" She gave Constance stern nod and hauled her wailing husband from the tent by the lob of his ear. 

Outside there were hoots of laughter. Constance collapsed back onto the table, choking with laughter. She would tell her brother what Wilkins had done, of course, but for the moment, she could not restrain her mirth.

* For those who couldn't read it, it says (in readable form): "Get off her now before I count to three!"

__

Next chapter: Fife is discovers the truth and the further misadventures of Wilkins

under the scrutiny of his wife.


	13. The ODD-yssey Continues...

A/N: Well, I'm back, finally. I'll pretend you all missed me, just for the ego inoculation :P If you really did miss getting new chapters constantly, sorry—I've been really, really busy.

To say Lieutenant Fife was upset would be a laughable understatement. Truth be told, he had as much of an idea of what he was feeling as what Constance knew she was getting herself in to. Tobias had melted into a spineless mush before Captain Bordon, whimpering and weeping about how all was lost. So much for his stern display earlier.

And then there was that insane bit of rage that whispered for him to break something….

But in all, he had no reason for being so…choked up. It had been clear that Constance did not care for him as he wished (and pretended) she did. _No, she's cuddling up to that wimpy captain. He can hardly stand up for himself, let alone defend 'his' woman from a bunch of soldiers…._

Fife wandered out into the trees that fringed the edge of the camp. It was silent and uncommonly still. The full moon loomed above, engaged in a frigid surveillance of earth and its tiny creatures. Tendrils of steaming breath seeped from his lips, or burst forth from his nose in snorts as he recalled the embrace in which he had found the object of his affection. He grabbed a crackly branch from the ground and whipped at the air with it. Soon he pretended he was in the heat of a furious duel—with the captain, of course.

A plane flat sheet of water glowed in the moon light, edging the muddy shores in silver bands. Fife walked along to a high embankment above the water. There was a large boulder, and the lieutenant perched himself upon it. He drew his knees up to his chin and glowered at the pond. Fife appeared to fade into the stone, as he did not move a muscle, or even blink, for the greatest length of time.

He sat and just thought with no consideration of time. What did it matter, any way? No one was going to hassle him for being out in the middle of the night, or he at least hoped not. He must have been ruminating there for close to two hours when something came gliding out of the trees below him on the left. It was Constance. However, she did not see him, and Lieutenant Fife was in no mood to talk to her. In fact, he expected to see Captain Bordon slink out of the dark for a midnight rendezvous of some kind.

But it was only Constance, bare footed, and no one followed her. Under her arm, she had a bag she dropped onto the grass before the shore. She removed some clothes—a dragoon's uniform—from it and lay them out carefully. Next came a long sheet of white cloth and a pair of boots. _Must be laundry for her brother, though why so late at night?_ he thought.

Tobias slipped behind the rock and peered out just enough to watch her. Constance had begun to strip down. She stood in her bloomers and corset as she stuffed her bodice and various skirts into the bag. Decency suggested that Fife look away as she removed the rest of her clothing, but it was _only_ a suggestion…. He clamped a hand over his mouth as she waded into the water to bathe. Oh, this definitely topped Bordon's winning an embrace.

Constance was completely unaware of the voyeur up on the bank and proceeded as normal in her bath and subsequent dressing. She sloshed out of the pond and dried herself before winding the long sheet of cloth tightly about her breasts to flatten them. Fife squinted in curiosity. He was totally astonished when she dressed herself in the uniform, bound her hair, and returned to camp.

__

Oh, the colonel will love this!

Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins had obviously reconciled, for as Constance, in the guise of Joseph, strolled by their tent, the canvas was aglow in candle light and purring version of Mrs. Wilkins' could be heard from within. Constance shuddered and went to check on her brother. Hopefully he would be asleep.

No such luck. William was still awake, poring over papers on his desk. He heard her approach and sat up to rub his temples. "Why, Constance? Why can't you be content to be a woman and totally unconcerned with war?"

She shook her head. "You're my concern, brother. Besides, Joseph has been gone too long and it may raise suspicions."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Bordon knows."

Tavington pinched his eyes closed. "Great."

The sister was poised to say something when Fife scrambled in with a wild grin on his face. 

"Sir, I've got news for you! You are going to be horrified!" The lieutenant grabbed Constance by the shoulders and positioned her directly before William's desk. "This is no man, Colonel, sir."

"Pray tell, what am I then, Lieutenant Fife?" Constance demanded moodily.

"This is your sister, in disguise, sir!"

William waved him away. "Next time bring me _new_ news, Lieutenant Fife. You'd make yourself much more useful that way."

Fife was dumbstruck. "But—you know about her?"

"Yes, he does. Why else would I be in here dressed like this in the middle of the night? When do you loons think we actually get to sit down and talk?" Constance fell to the nervous habit of nibbling on her nails. Her eyes fixed on the flabbergasted little lieutenant. 

"I'm not happy about it, but yes, I know that is my sister, Lieutenant." Tavington went back to his papers and left his underling working his jaw like an enraged fish.

Constance was not content, however. She drew herself up and stared levelly at him. "How in Hell do you know about this? Did Bordon tell you?"

Lieutenant Fife shook his head. "No, he didn't. I just, uh, figured it out that—"

The strange leering light in his eyes told her everything. She was furious. "_You saw me bathing!_ You disgusting, foul, horrible, despicable _freak!" _

The colonel looked up again. This would be interesting.

Tobias shook his head rapidly, eyes wide. "No, not at all. No such thing, Miss Tavington. I just—"

"Saw me undressed! Get out! Now!" Constance grabbed him by the collar with uncharacteristic force. She wanted to cry from such humiliation, but she, to her brother's complete surprise, heaved Fife physically out of the tent.

---

Wilkins walked arm in arm with his wife the following morning. She was washed with a ripe red glow in her pudgy cheeks. The woman swaggered along in self-pride at having such a handsome husband.

The captain walked with a panic stricken expression stretched tight on his face.

"Well, angel-sweets, what do you think of camp, eh?" he asked.

"Kinda borin'—but mah, mah, mah, who was tha' tall feller wi' the dark hair?"

His brow darkened. "That was the colonel, dearie."

"An' tha' lil' red-hair girl ye was 'bout t' stuff yerself in, tha's his wife?"

"No, love. That was his little sister."

"Mah, mah! Ja-_aaaames_, ye augh' be 'spec'lly ashamed of yerself! Hurtin' that poor lil' angel-girl like tha'! I augh' divorce ye, ye gluttony ol' bastard!" she slapped him playfully.

"Oh, I would die with out you, kitten," Captain Wilkins sighed with no emotion.

"Aw-_wwwww_, James," Mrs. Wilkins purred. She was about to kiss him when she sensed a pair of eyes on her and her husband. It happened to be some other dragoon's wife going about preparing breakfast. Mrs. Wilkins flew at the woman. "G'wayfrommahmanwench!"

The woman curtsied humbly and hurried away, somewhere between amusement and terror.

Mrs. Wilkins giggled coyly and snuggled up against her husband's arm. "Kiss me, James."

The husband obliged with a twinge in his right eye. His wife began to coo and purr in happiness and told her husband was a strong and handsome lover he was. Wilkins walked along with the grimace even tighter on his face. They passed by "Joseph Carleton" on their morning stroll, and the Mrs. gave the imposter soldier an appreciate eyeing.

"Priddy priddy red head boy. Ain't nowhur near's strong as ye, thoo, James. I like ye strong, James…." She was purring again.

Wilkins gulped and rested his pained eyes on Constance. "Help me!" he mouthed, but Constance only wrinkled her brow in disgust at him and strode away.

She laughed once she was out of hearing range harder than would have been allowed had she been in a corset. Constance doubled over in guffaws. When she stood up straight again and wiped a tear of mirth from her eye, Lieutenant Fife was there, waiting.

__

Next chapter: What Fife likes to believe is an apology, and the dragoons

do some **very**_ bad things._


	14. Obviously SOMEONE Skipped School on Fire...

"Oh Lord, not _you_." Constance glared at the fidgeting little man. Her eyes were hard and piercing. Fife dared to meet her gaze, then shrank away under the characteristic Tavington rage. 

"Constance, I—"

"_Miss Tavington_!"

"Miss Tavington, I just want to say that I was wrong to look at you while you were bathing. I can't believe that I did it."

"Doesn't surprise me in the least," she huffed matter-of-factly. "You're almost as bad as Wilkins."

He waved his hands, shaking his head. "No, no, no—I'm actually a pretty decent man, _Miss Tavington_." He smiled a little recklessly and shrugged. "What I did is not characteristic of me, you see."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. I'll pretend to believe that," she snarled. "You had me going for a while, Lieutenant Fife. I thought you _may_ have had a shred of decency in you, however, last night's incidents have proved otherwise. And the fact that you would turn me in to my brother like that with absolutely no concern of the consequences I would suffer seriously upsets me and diminishes any affection I may have felt for you, on terms of friendship or in a _romantic _sense."

Fife was confused. "Had you going? Affection." He covered his face with his hands and slid them down his face, ending with gnawing on his fingertips in anxiety. "Gaaaaaaawd!"

She pursed her lips and snorted.

"B-b-but, you have the captain! How could you—oh no!"

"Guess you'll never know now, will you?" she said with saccharine sincerity. 

He mumbled mournfully into his palm as he stared at her, completely lovelorn. Finally, he looked back to her with a glimmer of the previous mischievous spark in his eye. _So you want to play _THAT_ game, eh, lovey?_ "Miss Tavington, may I comment to you in complete confidence and sincerity?"

"I don't have much of a choice—you'll tell me eventually."

"Madam, the moon illuminates those fine, pale breasts of your magnificently." He darted forward and stole a kiss. "_Che gusto*_!" Tobias cried before dashing off, chuckling heartily.

Constance's jaw dropped in horror, praying no one had seen that. She put a hand in astonishment to her chest, and for some odd reason, felt her heart fluttering.

---

William was sullen, even more so than usual. He would not dare follow through with today's plan if he had not sunk into desperation. Too much stress was riding on his shoulders. But that was not on his mind at the moment. His little sister pervaded his thoughts. What was he going to do with her? Two men already knew about her masquerade, and now she had returned to play soldier again. What to assign her today to keep her out of the fighting?

__

A good load of paper work needs to be done. And I have some laundry, too. Hmm. 

She definitely would not settle for that. He would be lucky to escape the wrath of the colonists _and_ his little sister that day. 

__

I'll keep her with Wilkins' group. It's safer.

---

__

I cannot believe it! He's actually allowing_ me to come along!_ Constance was peculiarly happy about being included in today's mission. It definitely beat sitting around camp.

The colonel cantered along at the head of the column, stone faced. Bordon and Wilkins followed close behind, the former looking rather nervous. Wilkins was openly relieved. His wife had dutifully chased after them, bawling, as they rode away. She waved after her husband and warned him severely to stay away from the village women.

Tobias Fife was pleased as pie with himself, and so being endangered Constance's secret. He rode beside her, batting his eyelashes and blowing lusty kisses to her. She wished to strangle him, but instead remained calm and restrained, every inch as dignified as her brother. That was, until the lieutenant muttered something to her in a low and seductive tone. She became flustered and refused to look over at him.

Bordon rode back. "Joseph Carleton, the colonel wishes to have a word with you."

She nodded and loped up the front with the captain. William turned to her.

"Constance, you are going to stay in the village with Wilkins today. I do not want you to follow me when I leave. Please do not protest, for this is the safer way."

She, of course, opened her mouth to contest. His eye narrowed on her, ending the argument right there. Constance snorted and fell back in to place.

Soon, they rode into a small village. A mass of British soldiers waited there, their coats a blaring contrast to the moody grey sky above. Wilkins gasped and became more at ill ease than Captain Bordon. He shook his head and held back by a gnarled old tree. 

"_Captain Wilkins!_" Tavington called.

Reluctantly, Wilkins returned to his place. There was great fear on his face.

Perhaps Constance was fortunate that she was short and toward the back of the group. She could not see what was going on and, therefore, found it entirely appropriate to mock Lieutenant Fife. Little did she know that her brother had herded all the villagers into the church and had the doors locked. Constance was too busy making a face at her companion. 

Will did not _want_ to do it, but hey, Machiavelli said the end justified the means. Good, because Lord Cornwallis had definitely been sardonic as of late, and just all aroundMachiavellian. Besides that, there was a whole ego thing at stake—Tavington most definitely would not stand to be bested by some slack-jawed yokel.

__

Bunny's going to Hell. _Bunny's going to Hell. Bunny's going to Hell. _Constance's jab from a few days prior returned to him now. The colonel could not stand to light the church himself and, so, gave that task up to Captain Wilkins before riding away with a few others.

The smell of smoke and muffled screams rose Constance's suspicions, and she wanted to ride off after her brother. However, as he had not been the friendliest of people recently, she quickly put pursuit out of thought.

Tobias was in mid dirty limerick when the stench hit. An epithet that would have made even Wilkins blush tore from Constance's throat as she wheezed and choked.

"What is _that_?" she cried, eyes watering. From her weskit she pulled a perfumed handkerchief and covered her nose with it. Fife shook his head, nauseous.

"That's people, girl. People _burning_."

*_Che gusto-_ "what a delicious taste" in Italian, or something along those lines. 

__

Next chapter: Constance makes due of her promise.


	15. *The Drama Queen Returns*

Frothy white foam and dusty sweat flecked the quivering black shoulders of Hermes as he caracoled around the clearing. _Damn, they're not here!_ Constance kicked into her horse again and galloped away. She had searched every one of the places she thought her brother would chose for an ambush to no avail. _Where in Hell are they?_ Hermes was growing more high-strung and unmanageable with every step he took. Constance was almost thrown from the saddle when the stallion kicked up his heels unexpectedly. The horse was really the least of her worries--finding her brother was priority. There was a beast gnawing within her stomach, threatening to break free if she did not find William. _Something is going to happen…._

"God damn it all! William Tavington, _where_ _are you!" _she cried foolishly. Hermes started at the sudden boom of her voice and reared. Constance was flung out of her seat like a rag doll from the hand of an angry child. She landed initially on her left arm with a yelp but continued to roll with the fall. 

The ebony stallion halted his antics and trotted with shamed grace to her side. He whickered and nudged her shoulder. Constance was crying, but managed to get up. Her arm was red and burning. A movement of the arm caused a wave of excruciating agony to sear along the entirety of the limb. The woman bit down on her lip as she hoisted herself back into the saddle.

William had been awake since the predawn hours. His little detachment had camped out by a stream for the night with hopes of moving out sometime that morning. The colonel had been on edge for the most of the night. He had difficulty sleeping with utter remorse. The chant of _Bunny's going to Hell_ could not force its way out of his head. William had swooped to a new low, and he was well aware that no one would allow him to forget it for the rest of his miserable existence. Constance would be the one to admonish him most. He heard it already: "William Tavington, how on earth could you? Th-th-those people in the church…what possessed you to--" and then she would remember it and break down weeping and get the guilt-laden sympathy she so desired. 

__

Women are **so** _much more remorse inducing than the Lord General._

Bordon was coping…oddly. He did not much fancy the idea of leaving Constance to watch a burning church, nor did he relish the idea of the woman being in uniform. But there was nothing he could do now that they were some odd miles away. Still, it tore him up inside that she was in potential danger and no one was there to watch out for her. Fife was as close to protection he managed think of. _But he would befriend everyone in sight, only to get them drunk and belligerent again._ Captain Bordon gave way to sullenness as he ruminated on the fate of Constance.

"Damn it," Bordon hissed, pacing. 

Tavington eyed his underling, knowing their thoughts had a common subject. "Captain, calm yourself. Fidgeting won't bring her here." _Thank God!_

"I know it won't!" Captain Bordon snapped. "And it's not so much I want her here, but more so that I'm worried about her with Wilkins and Fife."

Tavington shrugged. "Eh, one of them will kill the other, and I know she could fight of the one left." He rummaged through his things, looking for his razor and some soap. "It would be better if you did not worry so much about my sister and keep an eye out for yourself right now."

The captain nodded in concession, lowering his eyes, but then he snapped his visage back up to his superior. "How did you know I was thinking about your sister?"

"Well, Captain, considering you're fidgeting and have taken such an obvious liking to her…. I do have these funny little organs called eyes, believe it if you will." He raised his eyebrows emphatically and turned for the stream bank.

Bordon blushed and sat on a rock. He dug at the dirt with his toe, sullen. 

Galloping hooves could be heard. Will's head peeked up over the bank and saw it was only another dragoon. He shrugged and crouched down again. _Wait…._ Tavington stood up again. He was furious, and in his rage, he almost shrilled out her name. Instead, he charged up the bank to the small rider on the shifting black horse.

William grabbed hold of the pommel of his sister's saddle. "God damn it, Constance! I told you to stay with Wilkins and Fife!" he grated lowly, eyes piercing into hers.

She shook her head. 

"You turn around and follow the orders I gave you, understand?" 

"No, William, I'm staying here. With you."

He grabbed her arm and squeezed. His sister cried out in utter anguish before he could get a word in. William's face suddenly softened. "Are you alright?"

"Let go of my arm!" she sobbed. If it were possible to have wrenched it away, she would have. 

He opened his arms to her and Constance slid down with his aid. "What did you do?"

"I was looking you because I was afraid something was going to happen to you. Hermes spooked and threw me, and I hurt my arm."

William beckoned for her to follow as he took the reins to her horse. He tied Hermes to a tree with the other horses, then guided his sister down the bank. Constance seated herself on a tree root and wriggled free from her jacket. She rolled up the sleeve of her injured arm and gingerly offered it to her brother. Frowning, William gently cradled her arm in his left palm and examined it. 

"Be careful," she whimpered as he felt along the bone. She winced.

"There?"

Biting her lip, she nodded rapidly.

"Mm," was his response. "You broke it all right. Hold on." He stood up. "Captain, will you please come here?" Bordon had seen Constance ride in and immediately scurried down the bank. "Yes, sir?"

"You know how to care for a broken arm, correct?"

The captain nodded, puffing up a little in front of his ladylove. "Yes, sir, I do."

"She's broken her arm in a riding accident. Can you tend her until we can get her to the surgeon?"

Captain Bordon delicately helped her up and steadied her in the short climb up the bank. They went to a quiet spot under one of the trees, and Bordon sat her with care. He disappeared for a moment to dig through his saddlebag for a scrap of cloth. The captain returned to her and made a sling in silence. When finished, he sat back and folded his arms over his knees. 

"So, why did you come here?" he asked softly.

Constance frowned. "I was looking for Will because there's something wrong. I can just feel it. He'll need me."

"Well, I'm sorry, sweet. You're not going to be of much use with a broken arm."

"I can still--" she protested. 

Her lover smiled. "Dearie, if something happens, I will protect him. You've my word."

That did little to reassure her. Constance rested her chin in her good palm and mumbled something. He inclined toward her, having not heard.

"It's nothing," she snorted.

"Hm." Bordon sat back again. 

__

As if I'm going to repeat that horrible thing I just said! Constance thought. '_You can only protect him until you're dead' is a _wonderful_ thing to tell a lover…. _She shifted and closed her eyes, pondering. New hoof beats drummed around them, but they did not divert her attention right away. Bordon instead caught her attention when he sprang to his feet and drew his sword.

"Shit!" he yelped, pulling her to her feet. "Get down below the bank!"

Constance's brow furrowed in confusion. She did not see what the immediate danger was. Bordon had already left her side and was shouting orders before she could question. For once, Constance found it better to back away from the fight. She slipped down the bank and crouched close to it.

"Will!" she hissed, pointing upward. Tavington glanced over at her before coolly climbing up the bank. Constance followed him with her eyes and began to whisper a few prayers.

A great commotion came from up above. There were a few gunshots and the clang of sabres. Constance fumbled for her pistol lest anyone happen upon her hiding place. She loaded it with much effort, but at least had a little confidence in protection. The action continued up on the bank. Part of her wanted to join in the fray, but she knew it would not be wise at this point.

There was a gunshot and a muted cry of pain, and then everything was silent. Something clenched in Constance's stomach. _Not Will. Not Will. Not Will, please, I hope that was not Will!_ She listened a moment to the clamorous silence before she deemed it safe to peek out over the bank.

She gasped. The blonde boy she had encountered when leaving the fort stood poised over her fallen brother, knife in hand. The young man's attention was averted a moment to her stunned face, squinting in recognition. Constance's chest heaved to yell….

William Tavington lunged and impaled the blonde boy on his sabre. The colonel propped himself up on an elbow, watching the boy die. He added another jab for good measure before wobbling to his feet. He checked his side--he was bleeding--and staggered toward the horses before he collapsed again.

Constance did not allow herself to be taken by shock. She scrabbled up the dirt wall to her brother's side. He was struggling to get back up, but could not seem to find his feet.

"Will, I'm here! Brother, I'm here!" she cried, kneeling down beside him.

"Constance, go get the others!"

She lifted him against her right shoulder. "Here, I'll help you get up. Hermes can carry us both. Come on, William, get up."

"Leave me and get the others."

"You know damned well I will not do that, William. You had better just help yourself and help me get you up!"

He decided not to fight her any more. William grabbed her shoulders and pushed himself up with her assistance. Constance put his arm around her shoulder when he was up on his feet and led him over to Hermes. Tavington braced himself against the horse's side as she untied the reins. His sister got into the saddle and helped him up behind her. William climbed up with every bit of strength he possessed.

Once his arms were around her waist, Constance heeled into the black stallion and went galloping for camp. 

John Bordon's body lay by the corpse of the old preacher Constance had met at the fort. For the moment, the captain was forgotten, and so was the fact that, perhaps, his lover had hexed him. As they neared camp, Constance realized the captain's corpse must be somewhere still by the creek, and that troubled her. However, had she stalled but a moment more to collect him, it was likely she would have shared his fate.

The Ghost rode to the camp by the stream just as Constance rode away.

__

Next chapter: Will pays a visit to the surgeon with his sister,

and Fife actually does something…eventually.


	16. I am NOT a Hypochondriac!

A/N: Izzy, tell me how McKnight-ish the surgeon is. I even threw in a reference to the SOPs…hehe! And for fun, I tossed in dear Mr. Skinner, the only human from whom we gained ANY knowledge the whole semester…. Oh, hey, did you hear that the board is reviewing GN, and if he does not start to actually teach his classes something (besides bitter hatred), he's getting fired. I think it was the principal who suggested it because he HATES GN. At least, that's what Pear told me. Just a fun factoid to brighten your day, m'dear J 

Could William have chosen a better day to get himself shot? Conveniently, it had to be the day Constance broke her arm. She wished she could have sprouted a third arm to keep him in the saddle as he lapsed in and out of consciousness. Tavington often slumped heavily against his sister's shoulders and nearly fell several times when he drifted off. Constance not only had to struggle with Hermes with one arm, but also had to keep her brother situated behind her with only the use of a broken limb. She grumbled about the thankless acts that constituted familial love.

She would have carried her brother into the hospital tent when she rode in to camp, but did not think it a viable option. Instead, she made as much noise as she could to draw attention to herself. Oddly enough, one of the first to rush to her aid was Captain Wilkins. He had an overtly timorous expression carved into his face. For a moment, Wilkins looked as if her were going to chide her for leaving his detachment, but the captain thought better of it when Constance caught her slipping brother. 

Fife was soon on the scene, yelping out orders and assisting his superior in carrying the colonel to the surgeon. He had obviously just returned from bathing, for he was sans coat, hair was damp and curling, and his weskit unbuttoned. Constance stared after the little man as he dashed to and fro, assuming status he had never been given. Tobias caught her eyes and scurried over. 

"Do you require any assistance, Mr. Carleton?" he asked a little formally.

Constance nodded. "Please, Lieutenant Fife. Just be ready to catch me."

Fife opened his arms up to her. Face quizzical. She swung her leg over the saddle and clung to the pommel with her uninjured arm as she slipped down. She had not enough strength in her one arm and toppled down painfully onto her stomach. The lieutenant picked her up. "Are you all right? That was a nasty spill."

She shook her head. "No. I think my arm is broken. I did it an hour or so ago, but it seems as if everyone in the whole legion has yanked on my bad arm in that time."

"Well, we'll get it looked at. Come with me." He put a guiding arm around her, at first around her waist, but then thought better of it and brought his arm up to her shoulders. "You'll be fixed up in no time."

"Thank you, Tobias." She smiled kindly over at him. At last--it was discovered that Tobias Fife did serve some purpose, even if it was just as an organizer and concerned friend.

"No trouble, dearie. No trouble, at all." He brushed aside the tent flap. 

Sensing pain, a swarm of young surgeons massed around them, praying that there was an injured limb to amputate. The more ambitious ones of the lot had already buzzed over to their instruments and were frantically rooting around for knives and saws. 

"Back, heathens!" Fife shrilled, flailing his arms. "Get away, you zealots!" When one moved in on Constance, the lieutenant heaved his shoulder into the skinny young doctor. "I said away, you cannibalistic baby Sawbones! There's nothing here for you."

A fat old surgeon waddled toward them from the corner, jowls wobbling like those of a bulldog. "What's this! Away, you foolish young 'ns! I thought you could behave yourselves much better than this. This is not in accordance to my standard procedures!" The old surgeon cleared most of his underlings. "You there," he addressed one of the retreating mass. "Remove that head covering!"

The young doctor's brow wrinkled. He had been dabbing the sweat off his forehead and had paused momentarily with his handkerchief atop his head. Rolling his eyes, he dissolved into a corner to watch Constance.

"What do you need, sir?" Who to old man was addressing was unclear. 

Tobias acted and responded. "My friend here has broken his arm. Can you please help him?"

The surgeon nodded, and beckoned an assistant over to him. "This man here need to get his arm fixed. Mr. Skinner, will you please do it?"

The assistant, Mr. Skinner, smiled and sat Constance while the old surgeon waddled off behind his desk and sipped tea. Fife sneered at the old doctor and remained dutifully at Constance's side. He squeezed her hand when the doctor set the bone. Skinner worked quickly and efficiently, chatting with his patient and the lieutenant. Shortly, the nature of the injury came into question.

"This is a pretty nasty break, sir," the doctor said. "What did you do?"

"I was thrown from my horse and I landed quite heavily on it."

Skinner 'hmmed', and nodded as he finished. "Well, check in with me now and again, so we can mind its progress. All right?"

Constance nodded. "Thank you for your help."

"Indeed." Mr. Skinner rose and nodded politely to the both of them. He put away his tools. "Now, I'm afraid you will be out of commission for some time, sir. You would do well just to get some rest and do light work for the colonel…when he regains consciousness."

"What! How long is 'some time'?" Constance cried, springing up.

"Shh," Skinner said gently, indicating the wounded and sick. "A few weeks."

"B-b-b-but I can't be out for a few weeks. Define few."

"I would say between four and six."

"Between four and six?" she wailed. "That's an eternity! I can't be out for a month."

Skinner chuckled, shaking his head. "I know, I know. However, you won't be of much service to the legion with only one arm, sir."

She fell back into her seat, gloomy. "All right, I concede. It better not be any longer than that."

The doctor smiled. "Good. Now, take care of yourself."

Constance stewed. This certainly was a hitch in her plan. She never took in to consideration that she could get hurt in the process, either physically or emotionally, because she was strong and was going to protect herself and those closest to her. Now there was only a sense of failure that she felt. Not the dull throbbing of her broken arm, or the variety of other bruises from her various spills that day, only a stabbing sense of failure. William was torn up and possibly dying somewhere in a deeper part of the hospital, partitioned off from the rest. That was not necessarily her fault, and maybe because of her he had a better chance of living, but because of that stupid broken arm of hers, he was not awake and intact.

Fife sensed her displeasure and put an arm around her. He inconspicuously kissed her behind her ear then helped her up. "Come on. Let's leave this place. I've never liked doctors or hospitals."

"You can go. I'm going to wait for Will."

The lieutenant shook his head. "They'll be a while. Besides, he will need his rest after they're done with him. We'll visit him later."

The two friends left the hospital only to be greeted by a new hubbub outside. Another survivor of the massacre down by the stream had managed to drag his wracked form in and told of the location and incidents that occurred. A party had been sent out to retrieve the bodies. The corpses were being brought in to camp as Tobias and Constance exited. Fife looked around with horror as bodies of some of his comrades were being laid out beside the hospital. Suddenly Constance turned away, and fell on her knees, retching and sobbing violently.

Tobias stood over her. "What, what is it?"

John Bordon's corpse had just been flung atop a pile of bodies with the least consideration. 

__

Next chapter: Will is at ill ease about being bed ridden and his sister

finds solace in the least likely of places.


	17. I Had a Name for This Chapter at One Poi...

A/N: Nods to _All Quiet on the Western Front_ by Erich Remarque with Constance's war speculation. 

Constance had always pegged Tobias Fife as an odd man, and well, she was right. However, what he had done today was somewhat bewildering. He had proved himself to be decent, despite his weirdness. Fife had comforted her after she saw Captain Bordon's corpse and was even kind enough to escort her to the plantation where all her feminine effects were kept. 

"I'll say that I sent for you as your brother has been injured and may enjoy the affectionate company of his sister," he had said with his infamous smile. 

"That's all and well, Tobias, but you forget my broken arm. Others have seen Joseph--"

"A riding accident is a very versatile and universal excuse, my dear girl." The lieutenant winked. He agreed to wait for her outside as she dressed, even though she promised it would take quite a while. Fife had merely shrugged, dismounted, and sat on the steps of the porch as she went inside. 

She returned after the promised extensive period of time clad in pale pink. Tobias refrained from commenting on how it complimented her lips and cheeks--Constance had already been through enough. He boosted her up into the saddle of his horse and took the bridle to lead them to camp on foot.

"Oh, my poor darling brother!" Constance wailed, clamping her handkerchief to her forehead as she wilted back in the classic pose of the distressed damsel. "He is so pale and gaunt! Oh, surely he will perish! And I will do so as well out of my sisterly devotion! Oh, woe! Woe! Woe! Woo-_ooooooo_-oooe!"

William was not amused as she stood upright with a mocking grin. He still felt groggy and her shrieking did not particularly help the throbbing in his head. "Constance, please. For the sake of the others _and_ me, please shut up!"

She sniffed indignantly and sat on the edge of his bed. "I came to cheer you up, brother. Some thanks I get. Quite being so negative--it'll only keep you in bed longer."

"Quite being so loud--it'll only keep me in bed longer," he hissed, massaging his temples. "How long ago was it?"

"Was what? The skirmish? Your operation?"

"How long have I been here?"

She shrugged a bit. "Not a full day, but almost. You passed out and I heard that you almost died on them. Bunny, you're so fraught, which has weakened you. You're proving to be a difficult patient in that respect. But then again, all the little heathens have been working on you--the fat old surgeon doesn't do anything _at_ _all_ beside delegate his duties to the others."

Tavington sank back in to his pillow with a moan. "That long? Jesus Christ on the cross, if I'm here another day, I swear to God I will--"

"_Bunny_! Watch your language."

"When I entered the King's Army, they handed me this little paper resembling a paper affirming passage on a ship. Except this one was for a boat crossing Styx. Beside that, you've already informed me earlier that I'm going to Hell, so what's the harm of a little more blasphemy?" 

Constance was not entertained by his grumpy musing. "You should just shut your snide trap while you're ahead, brother. I would have thought that your little stint with death here would have been a life affirming sort of thing. You ought consider your options now."

"I'm considering my options, and I see right now that remaining a bedridden invalid is not one of them! I am no use--my whole legion is of no use--to anyone when I'm like this! _I_ _DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE_!" Each syllable of the last sentence was stressed heavily through his gritted teeth. "What would the Lord General think of my lazing around here?"

"William Tavington, you are of no use in the saddle like _this_. You will perform greater deeds once you have _recovered_!" his sister snapped. "To Hell with Lord Cornwallis. If he's that pissy, he ought to go do his own fighting. Otherwise, he should be damned appreciative that cannonballs aren't flying at his prissy rump." She carried on grumbling how war ought to be fought with large clubs by the generals tied to each other at the ankle.

The colonel ignored her. "I'll be up and functioning by the end of the week."

---

__

There is no reasoning with that man! He can't look beyond his duties to those who need him sane. Constance went for a stroll, fuming internally about her lummox big brother. Why could he not enjoy a few days' respite as anyone else would? 

__

Because it's William, that's why.

She was sure he had been a bull-headed little thing from birth. She knew that she had always known him to be that way. The Tavington males just had no sense of humor. They were mighty fine dancers, but otherwise there was not a bit of joy within them. It was no great shock that they made formidable politicians and lawyers.

His injury piled atop his stubbornness was just peachy--greatly convenient. There was no doubt Constance was out of action for a while, but now her brother was especially bent on riding off to get himself killed. Somehow, she would have to devise a plan to keep an eye on him. The easiest solution involved a fancifully large cage dangling high in the air, with him shackled inside. But William would not let _that_ happen, so that idea was right out.

The woman flopped down on the banks of a creek, likely the same one that trickled through the skirmish site. She rested her broken arm across her belly and glared at the water, as if her problems were its entire fault. Constance soon noticed someone sitting beside her.

"I hope I'm not bothering you, Miss Tavington," the person said. 

With a brief glance over, she saw that the new arrival was the source of _all_ her woe.

"YOU!" she spat, scrabbling to her feet. Constance stood over Benjamin Martin, quivering with venomous rage. The Ghost's worn face looked even more so than she remembered it, but it did not really matter to her. 

"Careful, miss. It would be hard for you to explain another broken arm if you slipped."

"So what? It would be a minor victory for you as you seem to enjoy trying to exterminate the remainders of my family!"

His eyes pinched tightly shut, and his lip shook a little. "Please, do not begin on that page, Miss Tavington. The pain of that thought is more than I can bear."

"Serves you right then," she returned condescendingly. 

Martin was insulted, and his face stiffened as he drew his knees close to his chest. "Miss, I did not come here to quarrel with you. I saw you here and thought that just maybe we could sort some things out."

She shook her head, adamant. "There really are no things to sort out, sir. I am not a person with the power to negotiate, nor are you, whatever it is you yokels are trying to prove. I really care less what you fools do with this so-called independence you are trying to win. I want no part of it except my poor brother got mixed up in it. I'm all for letting you yahoos run about, leaderless and panicky, because sooner or later you'll come simpering back to the Crown."

"That's not what I'm necessarily talking about."

"You want to sort some things out with me? Fine. My only request: leave my brother alone. He is only doing what he is told. You on the other hand, act of your own will. Leave him be."

The rebel colonel shook his head ruefully. "I cannot honor that request."

Constance sternly shook her head. "Then there are no things to be sorted out." She turned on her heel, holding her aching arm close to her chest as she stormed away. Strangely enough, Constance felt _really_ good. Maybe, just maybe, her brother would be proud of her for taking shots at the Ghost in his defense. _Now if only they were literal shots…._

Next chapter: Will argues with his sister some more before 

she forces him back to his bed.

Author's comment: Hmmm, is Constance's hissy fit the reason Ben Martin does his whole heroic return to the militia. Uh, well, actually, I don't remember that specific part of the movie because I haven't seen it in a great while.


	18. Ohmigosh, It's Chapter Eighteen!

A/N: Just on a random tangent--corsets are very fun. Call me strange, but I bought one today and I love it. Yeah, yeah, it's got the steel boning and all, very high quality, and surprisingly comfortable (*yeah, as I pass out*). Everyone go buy a corset 'cause I said so. Oh, Will's middle name that I just randomly pulled out of the air amuses me. 

Constance returned to camp in a huff. Whatever or whoever stood in her way as she went to her brother stood a good chance of inciting her deadly ire. The woman barged into the hospital tent, determined and fierce, and shoved her way through the doctors to her brother's partitioned cot.

What she saw there infuriated her even more. The cot was empty.

__

WILLIAM GODFREY TAVINGTON! She screamed it in her head for the sake of the others in the hospital. To keep herself from breaking something nearby, she started to chew on her fingernails. It was a habit induced by stress or fear, and as tensions were high, it was a wonder she had fingertips when she stormed out of the surgeon's tent.

The next logical place for him to be was back in his quarters, brooding in his chair. And that's where he was, poring over his papers. He would shift uncomfortably--obviously it was his injured side acting up, but Will would not dare sacrifice precious work time or pride for his health. 

"Do you have a death wish, man?" the sister shrilled, flying at him. The tears almost forced her to stop and collapse in a broken heap, but she needed composure to reason with him. _Reason--if it can be called that!_

"Constance, my dearest, I assure you that I am quite recovered. You don't need to worry about me." His voice was soft and diaphanous--clearly pained.

She gnawed on a fingernail for a moment before continuing. "Brother, I just saw you wince. You are not well at all. You are only killing yourself with this façade of bravery. You aren't fooling anyone. You are hurting." Constance sniffled. "I know because I am hurting too, Will. You do these stupid things and because I love you, I plunge in headlong after you. And that's just to try to keep you safe. I cannot lose you, William."

The colonel had nothing to say. His face grew slack from the love in her words, and for once in his life, William felt that someone _actually cared_ about _him_. But that emotional stuff was transient. Work conquers all.

"Kitty, I know. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid for me. I need to watch out for you. I do love you, Constance, but some things just need to be done."

"You love me? Really?" Her face grew bright through the tears.

He nodded with a wan smile.

"Then started acting like it!" Now she was rigid and icy.

Tavington's expression clouded over. He was throwing all his energy into the show of anger. He felt as if he were about to crumple to the ground, he was so weak. "Constance Tavington, that was impossibly cruel for you to say. How dare you ever doubt my affection for you, my only sister? I have fought you this whole time only to keep you safe. But you throw your well being around in the same foolish stunts as me, then admonish _me_ for it all? Looks like it will be two of us dying with a 'façade of bravery.'"

"Or each other!"

The colonel pounded his fist on the desk. The hollow 'thunk' came out weaker than he had hoped--a good rap on a table could shut up almost anyone. His knuckles were throbbing, and his right eye screwed up with the new little hurt that he would not voice. "Constance, as much as your display here has touched me, I have work to do. The King's army cannot stop for love."

"No, but the colonel of its mount corps will take a brief respite out of common sense--provided he _has_ any, of course," Constance retorted snappishly. Her brow grew dark as she glared across the desk at her brother. 

"Enough, Constance. Nothing short of a gun to my head would get me to go lay down now that I'm in the midst of something. Now, leave me be. I have work to do."

"Not if I have anything to do with it." She then sighed and produced her pistol. "Will, now that you've outlined the course of action, you leave me no choice." With the austere face of a stressed soldier, Constance adroitly loaded the weapon and pointed it at her brother. "Get up, William. You know full well I'm cracked enough to do it."

Tavington bent back over his work with a snort. "I've had enough for games today, girl. Let me be. Go caper around with Fife if you need to play."

"_Get up!_" she snarled.

With a furious sigh, he raised his eyes to her again. "Constance, you don't frighten me. Now, I suggest you go before I get angry enough to have you arrested for this." He punctuated it with a wave of his hand before returning to his papers. To his surprise, his sister vaulted over the desk, a move he assumed required great dexterity with a mass of voluminous skirts.

He was about to protest again when he heard her cock back the hammer. William gathered himself to get out a few angry words, but he stopped when Constance jabbed the end of the barrel against his temple.

"Right then, Kitty. What was it you wanted me to do?" he squeaked.

"Get up."

He hastily got to his feet. As William was a bit taller than she was, Constance pointed the gun into the crook of his neck and jaw. She prodded along back to his bed.

"God damn it, Constance! Quit this foolishness right now!" he growled now that he knew what she was getting at.

"Lay down or I will shoot you, William Tavington. I'm going to sit here and make sure you don't go anywhere."

He refused. "No. You've likely put in a blank round, assuming it would scare me. It did for a moment, but--"

"Do you care to find out if it is a blank round, brother, or will you take into account that I _was_ a fully functional member of your corps before you found out who Joseph Carleton was? Or, that I have always enjoyed shooting and am a better shot than you? Bagging you at point blank is no problem, Will, if I could shoot you just the same running."

He huffed and got into bed as instructed. Constance grabbed a chair and seated herself a few feet away. Her brother glowered at her like a child being punished. 

"Now then. Get some rest. I'm not moving from this spot. "

Tavington was greatly incensed. His own _sister_ was holding _him hostage_! _God, I hope the men never learn of this…. _He knew he could have wrenched the gun away from her at any time, but he did not like the fact that he may have hurt her. She also could not bear the thought of harming him, so it was best to cooperate and play her silly game and allow her to believe she had won. But then again, he was injured and she was a mite frazzled--he was slow and she only had to pull the trigger. In the end, it was not a gamble he felt up to.

Anyway, there were already plans for a fight tomorrow, and escaping Constance after nightfall would not be hard.

William lay on his uninjured side, facing the tent wall. He snickered, deciding to bide his time until she fell asleep.

__

Next chapter: The battle of (*author does finger quotes and says in a cynical voice*)

"Cowpens", and Constance defies her brother with the usual reckless abandon…this time with help.


	19. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lu...

A/N: Almost done, guys…. Oh, there may be an error on my part in here. In the movie, was it Greene they had leading "Cowpens" (wherein Ben Martin skewers many people/animals/inanimate objects in consummation of manly grief)? I have not watched the movie in ages, but I remember Ben talking to Nathaniel Greene the night before and coming up with some strategery (*snickers*). Ah, well, I gotta watch the movie for AP History homework anyway, so I'll find out eventually. Some of you might get mad at me for what I do to Ben in the end, but if you look at how the movie flows, it works!

It was morning, but it only seemed a couple minutes ago that Constance had forced her brother into bed at gunpoint. She smiled, wiping the grogginess from her eyes. He had been right. It only was a blank, but it had scared him witless. The woman stretched and yawned, the gun flopping down against her wrist with her light grip. She heard the soft sounds of dozing and turned to her brother.

"Will, are you feeling any--"

The cot was of course empty.

"Bastard!" Her face grew red and hot in rage. _For his sake, he had better only be at his desk!_ Constance paused and listened. There was little outside noise and the sound of sleeping over in her brother's office. _Must be pretty early then._

She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, pulling it close against the nippy October morning.

"William, you would do well to--" Another surprise. It was not William asleep in the chair.

"Tobias Fife, what on Earth are you doing here!"

The lieutenant came to with a squeal and a start, falling out of the chair. "Yaw!" he yelped when he hit his head against a chair leg. He struggled up to his feet and gripped the corner of the desk to keep upright.

"Yes, Miss Tavington?" he answered with a silly grin.

"Why are you here?"

Fife's face bunched up with a yawn. "Because your brother told me to. He came and got me 'round abouts two or three in the morning, I'd guess. That's all."

She was furious, but at whom, she was not sure. So William had betrayed her and put the poor lieutenant in the middle of it all. "No, that's not all! Where is my brother!"

He shrugged. "Here, there, likely at the--" yawn "--other place…'scuse me."

"I'm not fooling around, Tobias Fife. Where is William?"

"He said something about Nathaniel Greene and the Ghost. Everyone left maybe an hour or so after he came and got me. I asked why I was being left behind and he merely told me to shut up and follow orders. Your brother was not in the most splendorous of moods."

"When is he?" Constance attacked her fingernails with a possessed vigor, deep in thought. Fife stared at her in an adoring, sleepy reverie. After awhile, she snorted as she reached a conclusion. "Do you want some coffee? It's going to be a long day."

Constance and Fife were galloping hard through the trees. They had had their coffee, and Constance had struggled to dress. Tobias had aided her with buttons and cross belts with blushing devotion. He had even tacked up their horses. Constance lent him Roxelana, as she was nimble after the lieutenant futilely protested that Constance would need the more manageable horse. She had muttered something about Patrick Ferguson making due with one arm and directed Fife to saddle her brother's little steel grey mare Artemis.

"She's just as light on her feet," Constance grumbled as she swung herself up into the saddle. Her broken arm ached in the cold, but the woman ignored it and heeled into her mount.

Neither of them spoke during the ride. Constance was listening intently to the sounds of artillery in the distance to locate the battle. She dug her spurs deeper into Artemis when the blasts where clearly audible. The fight was just through the trees and down the hill…. Branches whipped against their bodies and stung at their faces. The horses were sweating and their chests smeared with their foamy breath. Fife rode on Constance's left flank, ready to try and catch her if she fell. He saw that she was hurting as tree limbs smacked against the broken arm she kept clenched to her chest.

"There!" she bellowed, reining in and pointing. She could see the banners of General Cornwallis, and the back of the Lord General and his adjutants. Tobias squinted into the crystalline morning and spotted the cavalry waiting anxiously.

"They're just about to get started," he said. The lieutenant fixed his eyes on Constance. "Do you really want to do this?"

She nodded, not having entirely heard what he said. He took a deep breath in frustration. It was hard to reason with Tavingtons.

"Constance, listen to me please."

Constance wheeled Artemis around to face him. She nudged up her fur-crested helm as it had slipped down during their frantic ride. "What?" she said with impatience.

"Your brother--he _betrayed_ you. He duped you so he could go out like a hero. Do you really want to charge in there with the legion just to die with him--_for_ _him_--after he did that to you?"

"_He is my brother_." Her voice was tiny and choked. Fife needed to crane forward in the saddle to hear her. Their eyes met and Tobias saw that her mind was unswervingly made up. His lip quivered and he clenched his reins tight. He was incredibly frightened now, wondering why he was willing to follow this woman to possible death for a man who had always been particularly acerbic to both of them.

"Then I will stay by your side until the end--" he swallowed a lump in his throat as he began to turn for toward the other members of horse. "And until then, I will pray there is no end."

There was no response from her, and they cantered back into the trees. They had little trouble melting into the back of the clustered group of dragoons. Everyone was too wound up to pay heed to the late arrivals. At the front was Will, faking health admirably well. He sat straight backed, peering through his spyglass at the action below. The militia had just opened fire. Captain Wilkins, who waited beside the colonel, cringed with the beginning round.

Fife made a strange noise beside Constance. She glanced over and saw him shaking, tears sliding down his face as he wrestled to keep a sob down in his throat. He pulled out his handkerchief and scrubbed his face free of tears only to have them wind their way back down his cheeks.

"Toby," Constance said softly, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "What's wrong, Toby?"

He shook his head, sniffling and sitting up straight now. "Nothing. I'm all right now. I'm just a bit stunned, is all. I have never been in a _battle_ before. Skirmishes, yes, but not anything this--I was perfectly content to sit in your brother's chair all day."

"You never had to come with me," she returned with a wan smile. "I won't think less of you if you want to go back. Go back, you won't get in trouble that way. You can just say I knocked you unconscious and escaped. Will knows I'm a bit daft."

"Yeah, I know, but I wasn't going to just let you ride off all by yourself. You are just as whole as your brother is. It would have been a heartless thing to let a woman with a broken arm take my place in a fight."

"That's good of you to say, Toby. "

Much more was left to be said, but they did not have the opportunity. William had started the charge early. Dragoons galloped down the hill with their sabres in a deadly cascade. Constance glanced over at Fife before falling in with the others. Her mind was now focused on her brother. She needed to follow him as closely as possible. 

Tailing the colonel was more difficult than she had expected, as Tavington was doing his own bit of tracking. The Ghost was his quarry, and he would find the rebel, come Hell or high water. Constance was the least of Will's concerns. _She's likely sipping rum punches with Fife, swapping jokes and critiques._ He did not know she was a few yards behind him, reins in her bad hand while she galloped and sliced like a demented Valkyrie. 

__

There he is! Constance sighted her brother and loped toward him as she hacked intermittently at the rebels who were now starting to fall back. Her mind was spinning. The action around her made her feel like an observer in the midst of a fatal dervish. Blinking hard to clear her thoughts, she called to her brother. Her voice was lost in the melee. William was searching, oblivious to her presence. She saw his form inflate as he drew in a deep breath--prey sighted.

He put distance between them, switching at his horse's flanks with his sabre blade. Constance screamed and spurred Artemis. Her brother was charging toward the Ghost. The rebel colonel wielded an American banner like a spear. He dropped down to brace himself and impaled Will's horse with the flag. Tavington went flying when his horse stumbled and fell heavily.

The dragoon was disoriented for a moment as he returned to his feet. He saw his poor horse, his favorite, writhing and squealing in its death throes. Tavington shot the beast out of pity and to silence the horrendous noise it made over the din of battling men. His attentions flicked to the grubby man barreling toward him, and for a moment, he watched in wonder, unsure if he was really there. 

Constance lost sight of her brother now that he was on the ground. She was further distracted by a man with a bayonet trying to unseat her. With a haphazard stroke, Constance forced him to drop the weapon as she took his hand off at the wrist. The woman moved on, trying to find her brother. She was hesitant to dismount once she spotted him, not wanting to lose a good horse to some scavenging bumpkin. However, in the end, she slid down from the saddle to fight her way to him. She threw off her helmet to allow better sight and clamped her broken arm across her body. Fear poured through her, and she had a hard time accepting that she had survived yet so far.

Now that she was on the ground, fighting took on a more personal, more heart wrenching form. Constance found herself staring at those she needed to kill in the eye and was forced to discover that they were surprisingly human. There was no personal animosity, only hatred for a misguided man across the ocean, in their faces. If she were one who could break a promise, she would have thrown down her sword and run away into the woods. But William needed her.

One of her fellow horsemen was struggling with a burly colonist. The dragoon's legs were buckling as the rebel used all his strength to press him down under a crossed sword and musket. It was an officer, so naturally Constance was sort of obliged to help. She swung her arm wildly and caught the man across the stomach and around to his side. The rebel came at her now despite the massive injury. He batted the sabre from her grip and was coming down on her with the bayonet when the rescued officer plunged his sabre into the man's back.

Wilkins yanked the blade from the dying man and grabbed Constance's wrist to pull her shoulder to him in a comeradic embrace. "I 'preciate it."

Constance nodded--her red hair had fallen loose some time ago and caught the captain's eyes. He was dumbfounded, gaping and lowering in a bow. Constance rolled her eyes as she shot a man coming at Wilkins' exposed back.

"Watch it all right, you twit? I'm not saving you again." She shoved him aside and jogged on in search of her brother. She found him and halted. She would not steal the prize of the Ghost's head from Will, as much as she would like to.

Tavington and the Ghost had almost come to terms--Benjamin Martin was on his knees, reeling with his wounds as Will wound up to behead him. The Ghost swayed his head below the strike, then turned to spear his foe with a bayoneted musket. Martin rose and sneered into the agonized eyes of the dragoon.

"My sons were better men," he spat, driving yet another bayonet into Will. 

Constance could not cry out. Only her legs would operate. She ran to meet the rebel colonel. Martin was distracted again and entirely unaware of his surroundings. Constance followed his path of sight and saw Cornwallis riding away with his staff. She took up a forgotten musket. The weapon's bayonet was lost somewhere, and she had no ammunition, depriving her a chance of killing the Ghost outright. Screaming in excruciating pain, she swung the butt of the musket with every bit of her strength to connect with the back of the Ghost's skull. She dropped the gun then and tucked her bad arm up again and began to sob. 

She had failed. 

She knew she had not killed the Ghost. Aye, she had rendered him quite unconscious for the time being and a while afterward, but at most she had done a little mental damage. She left Fife behind to fight on his own when he was much more frightened than she was. And then there was Will. Her favorite brother, slumped over a bayonet in his belly. Weeping bitterly, she picked her way over to her brother. There was little fear of being attacked, as all the colonists were too busy giving chase to the retreating British to worry about a whimpering woman.

"Oh, Bunny," she cried, propping him against her shoulder so she could gently remove the bayonet. Constance lay him down in the trampled and bloody grass. William groaned, and she was startled. Constance pulled off her coat and wadded it up beneath his head. "Are you comfortable?"

He did not answer, but was singing something in a cracked mumble:

"_Confutatis maledictis,_

flammis acribus addictis,

voca me cum benedictus.

Oro supplex et acclinis,

cor contritum quasi sinis,

gere curam mei finis."*

Constance bit her lip as her brother was fumbling through his prayer. She kneeled beside him and stroked his hair. "You do not need to be afraid, Will."

He wheezed and nodded. "Yes, I do." His voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper.

"Enough of that. You'll be just fine, Bunny."

"Kitty, I am dying. That's not…fine." He touched her hand. "If I'll be just fine, why are you crying?"

"'Cause, uh, I just am. See, I got hurt too--I can cry." She pointed to a deep scratch across her cheek courtesy of a Continental sergeant.

Will made something of a smile at her attempt to brush off her painful emotions. "You should get that looked at. It's deep."

"I'll be okay."

He dabbed at her wound with his sleeve. "You should have stayed home, Kitty. I did not want you to see any of this. Was Fife asleep?"

"No--he helped me. I did not ask him to, but he did." She looked up to scan the field--it was unsettlingly empty but for the dead and horribly wounded. "And I left him behind in the charge. I shouldn't have--he was afraid."

"He is all right, I promise you. He's got too much to stay alive for. You, for instance."

Constance snorted. "I abandoned him, and that was wrong. I'm not going to leave you, though, to go look for him. I wish I did not have to say that, but--"

"Say what?" 

"Aye, what are we saying, eh?" Fife--insultingly cheery--strolled up leading Roxelana. "I say it's about time for us to leave the field before we are snapped up as prisoners. What think you?"

"Could you be any more insensitive and irrational!" Constance howled. "Look, you git!" She indicated her brother.

"Grand to see you too, lovey! Insensitive? You're the one who barreled off without me and left me feeling like an ass after I said I would not leave your side! I worry my fool head off, I even keep your horse alive, I rejoice to find out you're alive, and what a greeting I get!" He drew himself upright and puffed out his chest like an irate bantam. "All this after playing dead to keep from being captured. Ungrateful wench!"

She scowled and threw a rock at him before refocusing on her brother. The woman kissed his forehead and was about to say something when Lieutenant Fife stooped down. He hauled Tavington up against his chest and heaved him up into the saddle.

"'Us', being plural and all, Miss Rational, would encompass we--_again plural_--three. So, let _US_ get out of here!" He mounted, and reached down for Constance. Roxelana skittered under the weight of three riders as Fife gave the mare a nudge with his heels. They galloped away across the field toward a main road.

"Where in Hell are you taking us, Tobias Fife!" Constance growled.

"I know a surgeon around here. We should be able to get there before others start to pour in. He's a devout Loyalist, so don't worry about him hacking off any limbs for the fun of it."

Constance muttered something about the lieutenant being best friends with every yokel within four colonies and held on to his waist. He was irritating, but deep down, she was glad to see him.

Constance searched out the new encampment a few days later in hope of collecting some of her brother's and her own personal effects. A few books while Tavington recovered would be comforting and appreciated. Will had been well mangled, but this surgeon friend of Fife's was competent and assured her that all would be well. 

The doctors in camp were working over time still, tending to the tougher cases and disposing of the dead. As she wandered around looking for baggage, she passed a hospital tent with a fair pile of limbs outside. Those eager young surgeons were getting their fill of amputations for sure. Constance shuddered and hurried by the horrific sight.

It was likely that Captain Wilkins would know the most about her brother's possessions, provided that he had survived. She inquired a dragoon as to his whereabouts.

"He's hiding," the horseman answered with a wry smile.

"Hiding?" 

"Yeah, _listen_."

An ear-piercing squalling noise rolled through the air. Constance winced. "Oh. Her."

The dragoon nodded and moved on.

Mrs. Wilkins was bawling in anguish. She could not find her beloved husband. She wailed his name, choking on each extension of his name: "Ja-_aaaaaa-aaaaa-aaaaaaaaaa-aaa-_aaaaame_ssssss_sssss_ssss!_" Mrs. Wilkins fell to her knees and melted into an unflattering mess of tears.Constance watched the miserable display. As annoying as it was, this woman really did love her husband.

Constance took pity on the poor woman and hoped she would quiet down if offered some sympathy. "Now, now, Mrs. Wilkins. I'm sure you'll find your husband. Everything will be just fine." 

Mrs. Wilkins clung to her, sobbing all over Constance. "Oh-oh-oh, Mizz Tavington, have ye seen mah huzbind? Awwww, Ja-_aaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamessss!" _

"I'm sorry, but I haven't, madam. He'll turn up. I promise. Would you like me to help you look for him?"

"Bless ye, Mizz Tavington! Mah huzbind's bin so nasty t' ye, and yer nawt bu' a lil' angel t' meeeeeeeeee!" Mrs. Wilkins took to a new fit of tears, and Constance had to drag the hefty woman to try and accomplish her volunteered task.

Wiping her eyes with a grungy handkerchief, the woman squealed in a tone unnatural to most human beings. She broke away from Constance and ran toward a tent where two men were bearing a man on a stretcher. They slid the man onto the ground and covered him in a sheet. Mrs. Wilkins left in her wake a sharp squeal and a cluster of frightened soldiers.

"Oh, Ja-_aaaaaaaaaaaaaames_! _Nooooooooooo_!" She flung herself dutifully onto the corpse and soaked the sheet with her tears. Mrs. Wilkins wailed and pounded on her husband's chest with hammy fists. A series of "whumpf"s and gasps came from under the sheet.

Constance shuffled up, curious, since the dragoon she had spoken to implied that the captain was still alive.

Mrs. Wilkins snapped back the sheet to kiss her departed husband. Captain Wilkins shrieked, despite having the wind knocked out of him, and yanked the cover back down. His wife sat back, startled and confused. Her face then puckered up in rage as she pulled the sheet down again. Several facial muscles began to spasm as her face contorted into the dreaded _look_.

"MADAM, I ASSURE YOU I AM THOROUGHLY _DEAD_!" Wilkins screeched, pulling the sheet over his face again. "THERE'S NUTHIN' TO SEE HERE!"

Constance's eyes bugged as she held her hand over her mouth. The laughter was beginning to sting inside.

"Ohhhhhh, ye're dead a'righ'! Leavin' me t' worry an' bawl like sum madwommin an' all, an' leavin' the chil'ren wi' no Papa. Fakin' yer own death…ohhhhhhhh, Jimmy Wilkins, yer gunna wish ye weren' fakin'! Now geddupfromunnertha'sheet!"

"Yes, angel-sweets. I ain't dead no more, love. See?" Wilkins chuckled nervously as he sat. His wife smacked him across the back of the head with a pudgy hand before grabbing him by the ear.

Constance never knew laughter could hurt so much, but she promptly learned. She laughed and laughed, overjoyed that she did not need to feel guilty for laughing when life was so good. Previous situations had been rough, but now everything was on the upswing. She laughed until she felt like retching and her eyes were dry and burning from lack of tears. Constance laughed, for it was the sweet sound of success.

__

Next chapter: Fife pulls a Hamlet and **isn't**_ killed. Will's slow recovery, _

and the meeting with his replacement.

_* Confutatis maledictis,_ etc., is part of a Requiem Mass. In English:

When the damned are cast away

And consigned into the searing flames,

Call me to be with the blessed.

Bowed down in supplication I beg you,

My heart as though ground to ashes,

Help me in my last hour.

The title--more death music! Yay! Actually, I picked this because I just finished reading _A Devil of a Whipping_ by Lawrence Babits. It's about the REAL battle of Cowpens, and I seriously almost started bawling. (Unrelated tangent: Nor can I explain the fact that I nearly burst into tears after reading _The Red Knight of Germany_ by Floyd Gibbons, for that matter. Poor, poor Manfred. *sniffle*) I thought this a suitable title because one of Babits' reasons for writing the book was so the participants of Cowpens would be remembered. Yeah, I got sentimental. For once. Anyhow, _Requiem aeternam, _etc.:

Grant them rest, O Lord, 

And let perpetual light shine upon them.

__


	20. Liberation

A/N: Lotsa mushiness just for Izzy. Luvs ya, dude. And Ban Tarleton--better late than never! But, uh, imagine he sounds Liverpudlian because (if you haven't gathered from Mrs. Wilkins' abominable drawl) I am horrible with accents. **Warning: Not an overly funny chapter.**

Constance felt something was wrong as she returned to the home of the surgeon, Dr. Harrington. She hurried to untack Roxelana and ran into the house. The told one of the doctor's slaves to keep watch for a wagon of her brother's possession, then ran upstairs into Will's room.

His eyes fluttered open and he moaned. 

"Are you all right, brother?" she panted, moving to his bedside.

"I will be if you would kindly stop running in here every few minutes to check on me." He said sarcastically. However, it was not his usual biting cynicism, but of a more benign and weary nature.

"Well, I have to worry. You're my brother."

He sank back into the pillows. "What is it now? You ran in here quicker than usual."

"I felt like something was wrong, is all. Since you were the one closest to death, I assumed something was wrong with you." She checked his bandages and brushed back his hair. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Oh, Tobias just threw a tantrum and rode off."

Constance sat down on the bedside. "What for?"

He mustered up a shrug. "I didn't hear much of it. He made no sense at all. You were mentioned several times--whether it was favorable or not, I don't know. I think he said he was going to get himself discharged or have someone report him as dead. He's lost his damn mind."

"Well, if he tries to get himself discharged, knowing Tobias, he'll do it in a manner that will get himself hanged. I hope he's all right."

A door was slammed downstairs and heavy footsteps clumped up the stairs. The door was thrown open.

"Have you seen your--oh." Fife looked like a madman. His hair was loose and he wore his uniform breeches, weskit and boots under a long black coat. A dark tricorne was shoved down onto his head, further darkening the circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. "Constance," Tobias said with something of a smile. He took a few steps toward her, but she recoiled.

"If you're going to rant and rave, I want you out of here, Tobias Fife. William needs his rest. And it looks as if you should get a bath and some sleep as well." She shielded her brother, face stern against the lieutenant. "And why are you in civilian clothes? You have a wish to be hanged?"

"Nope, nope! I'm not going to be hanged! I am going to dance!"

"Out if you're going to make noise then."

Fife snickered. "Silly woman. I'm free! They let me go because I acted like my brain had fallen out of my bleedin' skull! And it worked! Only they'll be along here later to look at him and see if he'll be fit to continue service. I doubt he'll pass their inspection, and then we'll all get to do as we please!"

"Well congratulations. Now get out."

Tobias nodded. "Very well. But come see me a while later. I need to discuss something with you." He bowed and marched out with a smile on his face.

"He grows odder by the second," she sighed. Constance kissed her brother's forehead. "I suppose I ought to leave you be now. I sent for our things--they should be here soon. I'll bring up some books later. Now get some rest."

"Kitty, I will rest as long as it takes for someone else to barge in here."

She chuckled and went to the door. 

"And thank you, as well, Constance." His voice was quiet and earnest. "For your care and consideration."

The woman shrugged. "I'm your sister. Thanks are not required. Now get some sleep, Bunny." And with that, she left his room to allow her brother to rest and recover. He was coming along quite well. _His body may still be weak, but his spirits are recovering nicely,_ she thought.

Constance did not visit Fife until after supper. He had taken his meal in his room, and that unsettled her as she ate silently with Dr. Harrington and his two daughters. Had Tobias really gone crazy? She had heard stories about the shock fighting had on some green troops, and she knew she was not feeling much like herself. With that in mind, she excused herself from supper and went to see him under pretense of checking in on her brother.

The sight that greeted her when he opened the door was relievingly sane. He had cleaned himself up, and his quarters were immaculate. Fife's finger held his place in a book--the introversion implied by his reading quietly was a little unnerving when considering his usual gregariousness, though.

"I-I-I, uh--"she began, peering around him.

"You were expecting a shit pile, eh?" He smiled, removing his glasses and tucking them away into his weskit. "And me in the midst of it coated in muck."

"Yeah, sort of. You've been a bit out of your head lately and a bit unmindful of hygiene."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you then. Perhaps the neater, saner version of me can find a way to compensate," Fife said, turning to look into his room. "I was about to go for a walk. You more than welcome to join me if you please, but I can wait if you don't." The man shrugged on his coat.

She stared down at her feet. "I'll go--no need to wait because of me."

"Don't be so accommodating, Constance. It's not like you," Tobias chided, lifting her chin. He smiled at her and tossed the book onto his bed. "Ready?"

Without a word, she followed him down the stairs and nearly crashed into him when he halted without warning on the bottom step. Fife hunkered down and scanned the area before slipping off to a shadowy part of the foyer. He motioned for her to be quiet and follow in a stealthy manner.

"What on Earth is wrong with you?" Constance hissed, marching directly to the foyer.

"What's wrong with _you_? Haven't you noticed Frances, the oldest girl?" he whispered, eyes wide in terror.

"Yeah, so? She's seventeen, what harm can she do?" 

"She will cling to me as soon as she lays eyes on me and will let go about as soon as a starving wolf will let go of a hunk of meat. Frances doesn't quite comprehend that I am twelve years older than her and completely uninterested."

Constance rolled her eyes. "Oh, just go outside before I _call_ her."

Tobias bolted out the door, dragging her along by the wrist. He trotted down the porch steps and headed toward the fields behind the house. Constance jogged after him, as he took long strides and unintentionally put distance between them. She squinted to see him in the deepening dusk. Sheepish, he stopped to allow her to catch up. 

"Sorry." He offered his arm to her. "I'm used to walking by myself."

She took his arm, they continued on together. Constance gazed up at the stars trying to force their way into the darkening sky. Surrounding trees were faintly capped with a reddish hue as the sun set. The moon appeared low in the sky, full and golden this time of year, and she found it particularly lovely. Both were silent for a time as the walked through the tilled fields. Constance remembered that he wanted to speak to her. She turned to him to inquire, but saw he was looking down to ensure an obstacle free path.

"Toby," the woman said softly, giving his arm a squeeze. He came to a stop, too afraid of tripping either one of them if he kept on walking without paying attention to the dark furrows.

"There was something you wanted to say?"

Fife shrugged. "I've forgotten now--it wasn't very important to begin with, I can recall that." His voice was a little curt and unnatural. He was hiding something.

"Uh-huh" was her reply, suspicious and sharp. "Will told me that you were raving earlier, while I was gone, and that you mentioned me before riding off in a fit."

"Oh, that. Yeah. I was a bit frazzled. I had heard from Doc--Mr. Harrington--that he had met some officers the day before and that they were looking for me. Desertion and all that. I was frightened and had no idea what to do. A million things were racing through my head then. I was really worried for your brother, because if they found me, they would find him. The stress that would ensue from that sort of fiasco surely would not be good for poor Will."

"You were worried for Will?" Constance was incredulous and touched. "I thought you hated him."

"No. I've always thought him to be a decent enough man, just a bit of a workaholic." Fife smiled slightly. "He and I have been getting along quite swimmingly since he's been confined to bed. He's much…calmer because of it, and therefore more jovial."

Constance was overjoyed. "So, you've gotten to meet my _brother_ and not the _colonel_, eh?"

He nodded and turned to continue walking.

"Then what did I have to do with any of that?" She still was not satisfied.

"That situation would not have been good for you either, is all." 

"_Tobias._" 

"What?"

"You're evading."

"No I'm not. It just would not have been good. Follow my rationale here, if you will. The army searches out your brother and finds him. They take him back, expecting him to recover enough to fight again. You know as well as I that Will would adhere to that environment again and become just as acrid and obstinate as before. Just like that, you would have to follow him in all your brash, cross-dressing glory, and I would have to surface again to keep an eye on _both_ of you. Except that wouldn't last long because they'd shoot or hang me because I deserted. Eventually, Will would get frustrated enough with you riding after him that he might turn you in. But that would be his downfall as well, since he knew about it. See, it would be a great big mess." Fife blinked a couple times--somewhere in the distance were gunshots and yells in mocking punctuation of his fears. He bit his lip, heart pounding. Almost out of instinct, he put his arm around Constance to keep her close. 

"A bit fatalistic, but I understand." She gazed at him earnestly after a glance in the direction of the shots. There were whinnying horses now--dragoons. "I do not mean this in jest, Tobias. Are you all right? You have been a bit weird since the battle."

His voice became very quiet. "I'm still frightened Constance. I saw what this war was all about and I killed people for it. Let them have their independence, because I'm not willing to kill anyone else for _my_ ideals anymore. It was fun and games until I had to look at a man--a person who may have lived up the road from me, for all I know--and kill him. We didn't do much in my old regiment, and I thought I could come out in the end and say 'Look at me! I'm an officer!' without having to take a life or dozen for it. And then I started to think that it just was not worth it, to kill so many and lose those you hold dearest just to keep a bit of land. It was not my place to judge who lived and died there, but I did it anyway. For that, I cannot stand to go back to the army, the dragoons, whoever." The man paused a moment and snuffled. "Call me a coward if you will."

"You're not a coward, Tobias, and I have never thought that of you." She kissed him.

He was taken aback by her affection and managed a faint smile. "Thank you, Constance." Fife inclined his head toward the fighting as he rummaged through the pockets of his overcoat. He pulled out his pistol. "They're close by. Don't need Jimmy Wilkins and company charging through and reclaiming your brother or me. Don't need a bunch of hooligans shooting us, for that matter." Grumbling about Wilkins, Fife poured in the powder and shot and then rammed it down. "Stay close, my dear. I don't think I'd be able to adequately explain to your brother if something happened to you."

They held hands as they walked back toward the house, Fife glancing back over his shoulder for any sign of danger. Constance thought he was being too cautious until the dragoons cantered into the field with a short young fellow at their head. Wilkins was still a captain, something that likely stung him now that Tavington was out of commission and the captain the one most likely to take his place. They were literally _Green _Dragoons--the whole group was resplendent in green jackets faced in black with brilliant white breeches. Fife's finger went to the trigger as he moved defensively in front of Constance.

"Evening," the young colonel called cheerily, nodding to the woman. He reined in his mount and addressed Fife. "I wonder if you would be able to help me."

"Who are you, if I may, sir," Tobias answered a bit edgily.

"Certainly. Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton of His Majesty's Green Dragoons. See, we _are_ green now. The other fellow must have been color blind…." He smiled wryly. "Anyhow, I am looking for--"

Constance came forward and curtsied. "Pardon my interruption, sir. The other fellow? Do you mean Colonel William Tavington?"

"Yes, him, madam." His eyes run over her, stalling in some places before Fife shot him a look.

"Colonel, I humbly request you do not speak ill of my brother. He has given his best to the service." She stared fixedly at the young officer.

"Ah! Forgive me, Miss Tavington!" The dragoon beamed winningly at her. "Please, sir, put away your gun. Your safety is assured. Now, Miss Tavington, you are exactly the person I--"

"Sweet Jesus! It's Lieutenant Tobias Fife! How'd you git away!" Wilkins saw Fife and launched into a vehement fit. "Sir, sir, sir! Colonel, sir! He's a deserter! Kill him! Please, please, kill him!"

Tarleton rolled his eyes. In one of those strange moments Providence decides to have a little fun, both Tarleton and Fife barked: "Dammit Wilkins, shut your trap!"

Tobias had found yet another new friend.

"Now, Miss Tavington," Tarleton continued, "you are exactly the person I'm looking for. Well, sort of--you can take me to the person I'm looking for."

"William is in no condition for visitors, and I do not believe the kind surgeon and his family are willing to have visitors this late," she replied.

"Forgive me, Miss Tavington, but this _is_ business of Earl Cornwallis. I must see Colonel Tavington." His tone was a bit forceful. "I would be grateful if you would take me to him."

"Very well then, Colonel." 

"Would the lady care to ride with us? It is dark and we did have a little soiree in the woods with a group of bumpkins a moment ago. You might be safer in our midst, and _Captain _Wilkins would be more than happy to give up his horse, won't you, Jimmy?"

"Yessir," Wilkins grated bitterly, preparing to dismount.

"No thank you, sir. If you've just skirmished with rebels in the woods, methinks they are more likely to shoot into the men they just fought than two civilians on the ground." She squeezed Fife's hand, and he grinned recklessly up at the dragoon prior to turning and trudging up to the house with his arm around Constance. 

Doctor Harrington was nervous about the dragoons riding to his house. He locked his daughters into their room before admitting Tarleton and the officers that accompanied him. The remainder of the dragoons surrounded the house. Fife apologized to the doctor and tried to quell his fear of his house being looted. Constance lead the dragoons up to her brother's room, the doctor following close behind.

"Brother, are you awake?" she called softly through the door.

"Am now, Kitty," he groaned. "Come in." Tavington was panicking--he heard spurs. This could not be good. _They're coming for me…._

The woman opened the door and directed Tarleton in. She lit a lamp and indicated her gaunt brother stretched out on the bed. Will started wheezing in fright, his chest heaving. His ghostly pallor aged his features as he looked around frantically. Tears slipped through the creases of his face. _No more of this please--I don't want to go back! _

"Constance, don't let them take me! I'm sick! I cannot fight anymore!"

The young colonel padded to the bedside. "Calm yourself, sir. We mean you no harm."

"Who are you? What do you want?" Tavington rasped. He tried to lift his head, but found the wound in his collarbone would not allow it without intense pain. 

"I am Lieutenant-Colonel Banastre Tarleton. I have assumed your command until you are well, or permanently if my surgeon determines you unfit for the service. Now be still, and this will go quickly." He motioned for an officer who had followed him up to the room.

"Where is my sister? I want her here before you commence."

"I'm here, brother," Constance answered softly, coming over to take sit beside him. She took his hand. "Shhhh, Will, everything will be fine. _I promised to keep you safe_." She eyed Tarleton, trying to determine if she could somehow bargain with him if need be. 

But it never came to pleading: 

The surgeon thoroughly examined William's wounds. He looked up grimly and shook his head at his superior. "He is lucky enough to be alive, sir, but I doubt he will fully heal to be of any use to us. Let him go."

__

Next chapter: Epilogue *the Author hears the dramatic Also Sprach Zarathustra _(ok, the fanfare _

from 2001 Space Odyssey or whatever it's called) as the end approaches*


	21. Epilogue

****

Epilogue

or

IT'S FINALLY OVER!

__

It had been nearly two years since William and Tobias were "liberated" from His Majesty's service. A little over a year ago, Earl Cornwallis had surrendered at Yorktown. There was yet no treaty, but British troops were being sent home. _It was finally over._

William ameliorated quicker than would have been thought after he had been discharged. He was a much happier man and enjoyed spending hours reading in the Harrington's library while he recuperated. After he was well enough, he aided the doctor. As Harrington was a kind man, he paid William for his service despite the latter's protests. 

Constance hired herself out as a governess to a planter's daughters. Separating herself from her ailing brother was difficult, but the pittance she was paid, when added to the money her brother was saving, gave her hope of the possibility of owning a house soon enough ensured she would be able to care for him.

Tobias found slightly skilled work as an assistant to a local lawyer and contributed to the Tavington's savings. William and Constance had decided to allow Fife to live with them, when they managed to get a house, of course. Will secretly prayed that Tobias would finally gather the courage to marry his sister and make the innocent menage a trois legally binding.

Fife had his own agenda in acquiring his job: _sue Wilkins. _And that he did.

It turns out James Wilkins had never sold Fife's house in Charleston but had kept it as a retreat from his wife and children. He was forced to return the property to its rightful owner. Tobias, armed with the deed and a lovely settlement, paraded into Harrington's house and announced his good fortune. Constance happened to have returned that day, as the planter found her _way _too opinionated to teach his girls to be respectable. Fife proposed marriage to her right then. 

She subsequently swatted him with a shrill "It's about time!" and accepted. Tobias grabbed her by the hand and they ran all the way to Pembroke with William and the Harringtons in tow. Happily, the church had been rebuilt. The new priest immediately married them when he saw William, fearing for the safety of his church if he refused. Later, the wedding party opted to _walk_ home. 

The Fifes and William settled into their home in Charleston. Every girl loves a bad boy, even if only a _former_ one, and William was instantly catapulted into the uncomfortable limelight of being the most eligible bachelor in their neighborhood. Throngs of adoring women followed him as he went on his daily walks and sent him frightening amounts of baked goods.

The alarming number of cakes piling up forced Constance into action. Knowing her brother had an enormous sweet tooth, she had to hide the goodies. Now that he was an incorrigible flirt, it would be no good if he got fat. So, Tobias was surprised--daily--with all manner of pastry. He ate happily until one day he studied his figure with feminine displeasure as his wife shimmied into her corset. The husband pinched the tiny bit of flub folding over his waistband and whined, but Constance merely claimed to be domesticating him.

Constance and Fife eventually had a son and named him William. To Tavington's chagrin, he was now Bunny _all the time_, even to his brother in law_. _Naturally, Fife abused the privilege, and Tavington responded with fury: Tobias' new appellation was 'Dumpling.' But Will's nephew _was_ adorable and had the family green eyes, so he put up with all the ribbing. 

Minor dysfunction aside, they lived obscurely ever after.

__

The End.


End file.
